Books  and  Stationery 

108  St.  Charles  SI. 


THE  STAKE 


"See  !    She  is  coming  nearer." 


THE   STAKE 

A  STORY  OF  THE  NEW  ENGLAND 
COAST 


BY 
JAY  CADY 

AUTHOR    OF 
"THE   MOVING  OF  THE  WATERS' 


PHILADELPHIA 

GEORGE  W.  JACOBS  &  COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1912,  by 
GEORGE  W.  JACOBS  &  COMPANY 

Pitblished  March,  1912 


All  rights  reserved 
Printed  in  U.  S.  A, 


THE   STAKE 


CHAPTER  I 

AMONG  the  many  summer  resorts  which  give  to 
hot  and  weary  humanity  the  refreshing  sight  and 
sound  of  the  Atlantic  waters  as  they  break  upon  the 
New  England  coast,  none  is  so  little  known,  none  so 
delightfully  secluded,  as  Atherton's  Cove.  Here,  for 
many  years,  a  few  families  have  appeared  annually 
about  the  first  of  July  to  enjoy  the  bathing,  the  sailing, 
and  the  fishing  until  the  first  week  in  September,  when 
they  regularly  returned  to  their  inland  homes. 

The  one  hotel,  a  reconstructed  farmhouse,  boasts 
of  neither  palm  garden,  nor  ballroom,  nor  orchestra. 
Neither  billiard  room  nor  bowling  alley  distracts  the 
attention  of  its  guests  from  the  one  great  attraction 
of  the  place, —  the  ocean  in  all  its  variable  moods. 
From  the  broad  piazza,  which  extends  along  the 
east  front  of  the  house,  there  is  an  unobstructed  view 
over  the  waters  of  the  cove,  to  where  Signal  Point  and 
Squaw  Head  face  each  other  across  the  Narrows,  and 
guard  the  entrance  to  this  most  picturesque  but  most 
useless  harbor  on  the  coast.  Within  those  granite 
portals  no  craft  larger  than  a  fishing-smack  dare  ven- 
ture, except  at  high  tide,  so  shallow  are  the  depths  of 


2134807 


8  THE  STAKE 

this  miniature  haven,  but  beyond  the  jagged  line  which 
marks  the  protecting  barrier,  one  may  watch  the  sea 
in  all  its  majesty,  gently  undulating  to  the  touch  of  the 
mild  summer  breezes,  or  tossing  angrily  under  the  lash 
of  the  gale. 

In  the  distance  lie  isolated  masses  of  rock,  which 
seem  to  have  moved  out  from  the  shore,  like  scouts,  to 
receive  the  first  shock  of  attack  from  their  eternal 
foe :  the  Sentinel,  the  Hound,  the  Jaw-bone, —  each  has 
its  name,  famous  in  many  local  traditions.  Woe  betide 
the  mariner  who  attempts  to  sail  these  seas,  unless  he 
know  well  the  many  perils  of  rock  and  shoal  which  beset 
his  course  at  every  turn.  Indeed,  few  venture  in  these 
waters,  save  the  handful  of  fishermen,  who,  for  genera- 
tions, from  father  to  son,  have  sailed  in  and  out  of  the 
cove,  and  followed  these  invisible  pathways,  guided  by 
that  same  instinct  which  enables  a  landsman  to  walk 
fearlessly  in  the  dark  through  the  familiar  passages 
of  his  dwelling-place. 

The  outsider  who  wishes  to  visit  Atherton's  Cove, 
has  a  choice  of  two  ways  of  reaching  it.  He  can  take 
the  Boston  steamer  to  Harport,  twenty-five  miles  to 
the  south,  and  thence,  when  the  sea  is  calm  and  the 
weather  fair,  may  go  by  launch  along  the  coast,  and 
slip  into  the  cove  at  high  tide.  Or  he  may  choose  the 
morning  train  on  the  shore  line,  leave  the  cars  at  the 
little  station  of  Oldfield,  and  take  the  rickety  stage 
which  will  carry  him  ten  miles  over  a  rocky  road  to 
his  destination. 

Dick  Weston  was  one  of  the  lucky  ones  who  obtained 
vague  information  of  the  land  route,  and  by  the  aid  of  a 


THE  STAKE  9 

map  and  the  railroad  agent,  he  found  himself  deposited, 
one  afternoon  in  May,  on  the  lonely  platform  at  Old- 
field,  prepared  to  walk  or  drive  to  Atherton's,  as  fate 
might  determine.  The  small  frame  building  which 
served  as  depot,  ticket  office,  agent's  residence,  and 
general  depository  of  all  the  odds-and-ends  which  find 
their  last  abiding  place  in  a  way  station,  was  the  only 
house  in  sight,  and  the  lanky  individual  who  served  in 
the  quadruple  capacity  of  ticket  seller,  express  agent, 
telegraph  operator,  and  freight  handler,  was  the  only 
human  being  in  evidence. 

As  the  train  left  the  station,  Weston  looked  dubiously 
about  him  and  addressed  his  solitary  companion  to 
learn  his  fate. 

"  My  friend,  how  can  I  get  across  to  Atherton's 
Cove?" 

"  Dunno.  Stage  don't  run  reg'lar  'til  June,"  drawled 
the  unsympathetic  official.  "  But  they's  li'ble  t'  be 
some  'un  over  'fore  night." 

He  looked  up  the  track  at  the  rear  of  the  train  now 
going  out  of  sight  around  the  curve,  and  slowly  re- 
moved his  blue  coat  and  regulation  cap. 

"  Isn't  there  some  kind  of  conveyance  about  here  that 
I  can  hire?"  inquired  Weston  impatiently. 

"  Nothin'  but  a  baggage  truck  an'  a  han'  car,"  re- 
plied the  agent,  carefully  disposing  of  his  official  re- 
galia within  the  sanctuary  of  his  office.  From  this 
place  of  concealment  he  presently  emerged  in  his  shirt- 
sleeves and  a  coarse  straw  hat,  and  proceeded  to  carry 
into  the  storeroom  the  few  boxes  and  express  pack- 
ages left  by  the  train. 


io  THE  STAKE 

Weston  watched  him  in  silence  for  a  few  minutes 
before  venturing  his  next  question. 

"  How  far  is  it  to  Atherton's  Cove?  " 

"  'Baout  ten  mile." 

"I  suppose  I'll  have  to  walk  it,"  muttered  Weston 
dubiously. 

The  man  paused  a  moment  to  stare  at  him. 

"  Guess  ye  could,  but  ye'd  find  it  purty  durned  hard 
trav'lin'."  " 

Then  cocking  his  head  on  one  side,  and  squinting 
his  eye  upwards,  he  said : 

"  Seems  zo  I  heerd  a  waggin  comin'  now." 

"  That's  so,"  cried  Weston,  as  the  unmistakable 
sound  of  wheels  was  heard  approaching  the  station. 

"  That's  yer  man,"  said  the  agent,  as  they  went 
around  the  corner  of  the  building  and  saw  coming 
towards  them  a  two-seated  wagon  and  a  team  driven 
by  a  lank-looking  individual  in  a  linen  duster  and  the 
inevitable  straw  hat. 

"  He's  fr'm  Atherton's,  an'  he'll  take  ye  over, 
all  right,"  remarked  the  agent. 

With  a  shaky  rattle  the  stage  drew  up  at  the  rear 
platform,  and  the  driver,  a  shrewd-looking  old  man, 
with  a  glance  and  a  nod  at  Weston,  called  to  his  com- 
panion in  a  cheery  voice : 

"  Haow  air  ye,  Ab  ?  Anythin'  to  take  over  this 
arternoon  ?  " 

"  Here's  a  man  wants  to  go,  an'  they's  a  box  fer 
Simpson,  an'  th'  mail." 

"  All  right !  Hustle  'em  in.  Got  any  baggage,  young 
man?" 


THE  STAKE  11 

"  Nothing  but  this  hand  bag,"  said  Weston,  climbing 
into  the  back  seat. 

"  Better  come  up  in  front,  's  long's  you're  the  only 
passenger.  Th'  back  spring's  a  leetle  weak,  an'  she 
bumps  kind  o'  hard  sometimes." 

Weston  acted  upon  the  suggestion,  settled  himself 
upon  the  front  seat,  and,  taking  his  pipe  and  tobacco 
from  his  pocket,  prepared  to  fortify  himself  for  a 
tedious  two  hours'  drive. 

"  All  in,  Ab  ?  "  inquired  the  driver,  in  a  high  nasal 
voice. 

"  Yep." 

"  Waal,  then,  good-by.     Git  ap  thar !  " 

In  spite  of  the  jolting  and  rattling  of  the  wagon, 
Weston  was  comforted  with  the  thought  that  any  con- 
veyance was  better  than  tramping  in  the  heat,  so  he 
smoked  his  pipe  in  silence,  watching  with  admiration 
the  horses,  a  fine  team  of  Morgan  blacks,  as  they 
trotted  along  at  a  surprising  gait,  considering  the  rough 
condition  of  the  road. 

"  Rather  hard  traveling  for  your  horses,"  said  he  at 
last,  with  a  good-humored  attempt  to  open  conversa- 
tion. 

"  They're  used  to  it.  Ain't  another  team  in  these 
parts  can  stan'  it  though,  an'  keep  on  agoin'  as  mine 
can,"  remarked  his  companion  with  an  air  of  pride, 
as  he  drew  the  reins  up  tighter.  "  See  'em  step  now ! 
Ain't  they  beauties?" 

"  They  certainly  are.  But  the  balance  of  the  turn- 
out doesn't  match." 

"Meanin'  th'  waggin?" 


12  THE  STAKE 

"  Yes." 

"  Thought  mebbe  ye  meant  th'  driver,"  said  the  old 
man,  looking  at  him  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye  and 
chuckling.  "  Waal,  as  fer  waggins,  any  contraption 
with  four  wheels,  thet'll  stick  to  the  exles,  's  good 
enough  fer  me." 

"  How  about  your  passengers?" 

"  Oh,  them  folks  c'n  stand  it  all  right.  Does  'em 
good  to  git  a  leetle  shakin'  up.  Then,  by  the  time 
they've  got  fidgety  an'  cross,  they  come  in  sight  of  the 
Cove,  an'  they  fergit  all  about  it.  Ever  been  to  the 
Cove?" 

"  Once,  when  I  was  a  small  boy,"  replied  Weston. 
"  But  I  don't  remember  anything  about  it." 

"  It  ain't  changed  much  in  fifty  years.  Been  livin' 
in  Boston  ever  sence  ?  " 

"  No,  I've  been  studying  in  Boston  the  past  five 
years,  but  my  home  is  in  Connecticut." 

"  Harvard  College,  I  s'pose  ?  " 

"  No.     School  of  Technology." 

"  Hm !  Too  much  larnin'  nowadays.  People  can't 
do  nothin'  nateral.  Hev  to  go  to  college  to  learn  haow. 
They  was  a  feller  up  to  th'  Cove  last  summer  tryin' 
to  tell  me  of  a  way  t'  teach  bees  haow  t'  make  honey 
'thout  any  honeycomb.  I  as'd  him  ef  he  couldn't  send 
me  a  first  primer  fer  my  bees,  'cause  they  hedn't  yit 
larned  their  A  B  C's.  Then  they  wuz  another  one 
wanted  me  t'  try  hatchin'  eggs  in  a  kind  of  a  box 
with  a  lamp  under  it,  t'  keep  the  eggs  warm;  but  I 
told  him  I  wouldn't  dast  look  my  old  hens  in  th'  face, 
ef  I  played  sech  a  mean  trick  on  'em, —  an'  it's  my 


THE  STAKE  13 

opinion  ef  people  git  t'  doin'  their  own  hatchin',  the 
hens'll  git  disgusted,  an'  stop  layin',  jest's  any  decent 
pusson'd  do,  ef  their  nateral  ockipation  wuz  took 
away  frm  'em," 

"  By  the  way,"  said  Weston,  "  do  you  know  a  man 
in  your  town  named  Guilford  ?  " 

His  companion  paused  a  moment  to  scratch  his  chin, 
and  rake  his  fingers  through  his  long  thin  beard. 

"  Yes,  I  know  him.     Known  him  from  a  boy." 

"  How  far  is  his  house  from  the  hotel  ?  " 

"  'Baout  a  mile  —  mile  an'  a  half  —  two  mile." 

"Which?" 

"Which  what?" 

"  Is  it  a  mile,  or  a  mile  and  a  half,  or  two  miles? " 
.    "  De-pends  on  whether  yer  comin'  or  goin'." 

"How's  that?" 

"  Goin'  it's  up  hill,  an'  comin'  it's  daown  hill,  an'  I 
tell  yew  it  makes  a  difference  of  more'n  a  mile  in  th' 
feelin'  of  yer  legs." 

"  If  we  get  to  the  Cove  by  four  o'clock,  I'd  like  to 
have  you  take  me  direct  to  Guil ford's.  Could  you  do 
it?" 

"  Like's  not,  ef  I  tried  hard." 

"  What  kind  of  a  man  is  Guilford?" 

"  Oh,  jest  the  or'nary  kind,  with  th'  same  number 
o'  hands  an'  feet  as  everybody.  People  all  hev  abaout 
th'  same  inventory  of  pussonal  belongin's.  Some  hev 
a  few  more  brains,  but  they  don't  allus  know  haow 
to  use  th'  su'plus.  I  hev  known  men  with  bigger  hearts 
than  the  usual  run.  Your  uncle  was  jest  thet  kind. 
Big-hearted  Dick,  ev'rybody  called  him." 


!I4  THE  STAKE 

Weston  turned  in  surprise. 

"  My  uncle,"  he  said.    "  Why,  who  told  you  — " 

"  You're  the  feller  thet  calls  himself  Richard  Elroy 
Weston,  ain't  ye  ?  " 

"Yes,  but—" 

"  I  thought  so.  But  haow  ye  got  the  Elroy  in  yer 
name  is  a  puzzle  to  me.  Must  be  fr'm  yer  mother's 
side  o'  th'  haouse.  I  never  hed  th'  pleasure  to  meet 
her." 

By  this  time  Weston  had  recovered  his  astonishment, 
and  there  was  a  look  of  amused  curiosity  in  his  face. 

"  You  seem  to  know  my  name,  and  all  about  me," 
he  said.  "  Won't  you  tell  me  who  you  are  ?  " 

"  My  name's  Ezry  Guilford.  Jes'  plain  Ezry.  No 
middle  name,  an'  no  frills,  'though  th'  neighbors  do* 
call  me  Square  Guilford,  'cause  of  a  leetle  larnin'  I 
picked  up  in  my  younger  days." 

Weston  laughed  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Well,  Squire,  you  certainly  had  the  best  of  me. 
I'm  glad  to  make  your  acquaintance.  Do  you  mean 
to  say  that  you  knew  who  I  was  all  the  time,  back 
there  at  the  station?  " 

"  Yer  letter  said  sunthin'  'baout  comin'  up  Tues- 
day, so  I  thought  I'd  go  an'  sort  o'  size  ye  up,  an'  ef 
ye  wan't  tew  cityfied  to  ride  in  my  ol'  waggin,  I'd  bring 
ye  back  t'  th'  Cove.  The  name  ye  writ  on  yer  letters 
kind  o'  made  me  suspicious.  I  knowed  ye  wuz  named 
arter  yer  Uncle  Dick,  an' '  Richard  Elroy  Weston '  kind 
o'  stuck  in  my  crop." 

"  Now,  Squire,  that's  hardly  fair.  Everybody  calls 
me  Dick,  and  so  must  you.  When  you  wrote  me  about 


THE  STAKE  15 

Uncle  Dick's  death,  and  the  will,  you  addressed  me  by 
my  full  name,  and  so  — " 

"  Thet's  th'  way  it  stood  in  th'  will,  an'  I  hed  t'  give 
ye  legal  notice.  Ye  see,  yer  Uncle  Dick  wuz  careless 
'baout  some  things,  but  mighty  p'rtic'lar  'baout  hevin' 
ev'rythin'  done  legal.  I  drawed  his  will  five  years  ago. 
Thet's  th'  time  yer  father  died,  an'  yer  uncle  sent  ye 
th'  money  t'  go  t'  Boston  t'  school.  Naow,  last  week, 
arter  th'  funeral,  I  got  t'  worryin'  'baout  th'  will,  an' 
so  I  took  it  over  t'  th'  Jedge  o'  Probate,  an'  when  he 
read  it  through,  he  kind  o'  laughed,  an'  said  'twas  all 
reg'lar,  an'  would  go  on  th'  record  books  all  right 
enough. 

"  They  wan't  much  tew  it.  I  c'n  say  it  over  word 
fer  word.  It  went  like  this :  *  I,  Dick  Weston  ' —  he 
wouldn't  hev  any  other  name  put  in.  Said  he  couldn't 
remember  haow  he  wuz  baptized,  but  he'd  allus  lived 
as  Dick  Weston,  an'  he'd  die  under  th'  same  name. 
So  I  wrrote  it  jest  thet  way. — '  I,  Dick  Weston,  bein' 
o'  sound  mind  an'  tol'ble  health  ' —  he  wuz  jest  beginnin' 
to  ail  'baout  thet  time — '  do  make  an'  declare  this  to 
be  my  last  will  an'  testament.'  Ye  see  I  copied  most 
of  it  frum  a  book  I  hed,  givin'  all  kinds  o'  legal 
forms.  *  I  give,  devise,  an'  bequeath  all  I  hev  on 
airth  to  my  nephew,  Richard  Elroy  Weston,  the  only 
son  of  my  beloved  brother,  Robert  Weston.'  Thet 
wuz  all  they  wuz,  'cept  'p'intin'  me  executor,  an'  th' 
signin'  o'  th'  witnesses." 

Weston  turned  his  head,  and  gazing  over  the  rough 
landscape,  tried  to  picture  the  rugged  character  of  the 
man  who  had  toiled  alone  through  his  lifetime,  un- 


16  THE  STAKE 

cheered  by  wife  or  children,  cherishing  to  the  last  a 
loving  memory  of  the  brother  of  his  boyhood  days. 

"  Why  wasn't  I  notified  in  time  to  be  with  him  when 
he  died,  or  at  least  to  have  attended  his  funeral  ?  "  he 
asked. 

Squire  Guilford  did  not  answer  for  a  minute,  and 
then  his  voice  was  husky  and  low. 

"  Dick  wuz  pe-culiar.  Jest  before  he  died,  he  sent 
f  er  me,  an'  he  sez  t'  me,  '  Ezry,'  sez  he,  *  I'm  goin'  t' 
die/  sez  he.  '  An'  I  don't  want  no  fuss  made  abaout 
it  neither.'  Then  he  tol'  me  jest  what  t'  do.  Haow 
he  wuz  t'  be  laid  out,  an'  who  wuz  t'  be  th'  bearers, 
an'  where  he  wuz  t'  be  buried.  He  didn't  want  no 
one  t'  be  'raound  when  he  died,  'cept  me  an'  th'  doctor 
t'  kind  o'  make  it  easy  fer  him,  an'  he  didn't  want  no 
mourners  —  jest  th'  preacher  t'  say  a  few  prayers,  an' 
thet  wuz  all.  He  said  folks  hed  enough  things  o'  their 
own  t'  feel  bad  abaout,  'thout  bein'  stirred  up  over 
him.  He  said  in  p'rtic'lar  thet  he  didn't  want  yew 
notified  'til  it  wuz  all  over,  'cause  it  might  bring  a 
shadder  over  yer  life,  an'  he  didn't  want  anythin'  but 
sunshine  in  it." 

He  paused  a  moment,  then  turning,  and  seeing  the 
tears  in  Weston's  eyes,  he  reached  over  and  grasped 
his  hand. 

"  He  sot  a  great  deal  by  yew,  my  son." 

"  And  I  did  so  little  to  show  my  gratitude  for  his 
kindness.  I  can't  even  remember  his  face.  It  must 
have  been  twelve  years  ago,  when  I  was  about  thirteen, 
that  my  father  brought  me  up  here  to  visit  him.  That's 
the  only  time  I  ever  saw  him.  Even  when  father  died 


THE  STAKE  17 

he  didn't  come  to  see  us ;  and  we  didn't  hear  from  him 
until  months  afterwards." 

"  He  wuz  queer,  wuz  Dick ! "  remarked  the  squire, 
meditatively.  "  Wan't  much  f er  seein'  folks,  'cept  a 
few  pussonal  friends.  Sort  o'  shy  an'  stand-offish. 
They  wuz  only  me  an'  yer  father  an'  one  other  thet 
ever  got  close  t'  him.  Did  ye  ever  happen  t'  hear  yer 
father  mention  Bill  Rankin?  No?  Wall,  perhaps  he 
wuz  like  me  —  never  seen  him.  All  I  know  is,  thet 
they  wuz  a  Bill  Rankin  some'eres  aout  West,  thet  wuz 
a  p'rtic'lar  friend  o'  yer  uncle.  Leastwise  so  I  jedge, 
fer  Dick  used  t'  git  letters  fr'm  him  p'rty  of'en,  an' 
twicet  he  went  clear  aout  t'  Michigan,  t'  see  him." 

"  And  he  never  came  here  ?  "  inquired  Weston.  "  I 
wonder  if  he  knows  of  Uncle  Dick's  death?  " 

"  I  guess  not.  They's  nobody  could  tell  him  'cept 
yer  uncle,  and  in  course — " 

Squire  Guilford's  powers  of  suggestion  came  to  a 
sudden  end,  and  he  drove  on  in  silence  for  several  min- 
utes. Suddenly  he  slapped  his  hand  on  his  knee,  and 
exclaimed : 

"  By  George !  Thet's  who  he  meant.  Say !  I 
didn't  tell  ye  'baout  th'  land  in  Michigan,  did  I? 
Course  I  didn't.  Waal,  now,  thet  accounts  fer  th'  slip 
o'  paper.  Ye  see,  yer  uncle  went  aout  West  when  he 
wuz  a  young  man,  an'  wuz  gone  sev'ral  years.  It  seems 
he  lived  way  up  in  the  no'thern  part  o'  Michigan, 
though  what  on  airth  he  wanted  t'  stay  there  fer,  I 
don't  know,  an'  he  wouldn't  ever  tell  me  much  abaout 
it.  He  seemed  to  hev  a  notion  o'  livin'  in  th'  wilder- 
ness alone.  Waal,  it  seems  he  bought  a  piece  o'  land 


i8  THE  STAKE 

there,  I  don't  know  haow  many  acres.  As  near's  I 
could  find  aout  fr'm  him,  it  was  princip'ly  scenery,  fer 
he  used  t'  tell  abaout  th'  forests  an'  th'  rocks,  an'  th' 
brooks,  but  nothin'  'baout  any  fields  or  pastures. 
Waal,  th'  other  day  when  I  wuz  goin'  over  his  papers, 
I  found  some  gov'ment  patents  o'  this  land,  in  yer 
uncle's  name,  an'  pinned  to  th'  bundle  wuz  a  piece  o' 
paper,  sayin',  *  Bill  looks  arter  this  ' —  jest  them  words, 
an'  no  more.  It  kind  o'  stumped  me,  but  I  c'n  see 
now  thet  he  meant  Bill  Rankin.  O'  course  this  land 
goes  t'  yew  now,  an'  ye'll  hev  t'  find  aout  where 
Rankin  lives,  an'  write  t'  him  abaout  it.  But  ye  c'n 
'tend  t'  thet  any  time.  I  guess  th'  land  won't  run 
away." 

"  Did  my  uncle  leave  much  property  ?  "  inquired  Wes- 
ton,  with  some  hesitation.  He  felt  that  the  question 
was  somewhat  cold-blooded,  and  yet  he  was  curious  to 
know  what  his  inheritance  might  be. 

"  Consid'ble,"  replied  the  squire,  assuming  a  magis- 
terial expression  of  countenance.  "  Consid'ble.  Dick 
wuz  a  p'rty  forehanded  kind  of  a  man,  an'  as  he 
hed  no  fam'ly  to  look  arter,  natchly  he  laid  by  quite  a 
bit.  O'  course  they's  the  old  farm, — 'baout  two  hun- 
nerd  acres  all  told,  with  th'  haouse  an'  furnishin's. 
Then  they's  th'  brick  store  on  th'  corner  across  fr'm 
th'  post  office.  Then  they's  this  'ere  land  in  Michigan. 
An'  then  —  let  me  see,  thet's  abaout  all  the  real  estate. 
—  Oh,  yes,  they's  another  piece  o'  scenery  belonged  t' 
Dick  —  he  wuz  th'  queerest  feller." 

He  paused  to  chuckle  to  himself. 

"Whut    d'ye    think.     'Baout    ten    years    ago,    he 


THE  STAKE  19 

bought  an  island  way  off  th'  shore,  called  Roger's 
Island.  Ye  c'n  see  it  on  a  clear  day  fr'm  th'  hill  back 
o'  th'  Cove.  Nothin'  on  airth  but  a  big  rock;  nothin' 
growin'  on  it  but  some  patches  o'  coarse  grass,  an'  a 
few  evergreen  trees.  Said  he  wanted  t'  own  a  place 
where  he  wouldn't  hev  no  neighbors.  An'  as  sure 
's  I  live  didn't  he  build  a  kind  of  a  cabin  on  thet  rock, 
an'  ev'ry  once  in  a  while  he'd  take  his  dory  an'  sail 
out  there,  an'  stay  perhaps  a  week  at  a  time.  Queer, 
wan't  it  ?  " 

Weston  nodded  and  puffed  at  his  pipe.  He  could 
imagine  this  man,  seeking  the  solitude  of  that  isolated 
spot,  where  he  might  share  his  loneliness  with  the 
loneliness  of  nature  in  her  most  forsaken  form.  The 
bare  rocks,  the  harsh,  jagged  cliffs,  the  roaring,  growl- 
ing sea, —  all  would  appeal  to  one  who  had  so  few  ties 
to  bind  him  to  his  fellow-men. 

"  Then  they  wuz  a  lot  o'  notes,  some  good  an*  some 
bad,"  continued  the  squire.  "  Dick  wuz  allus  lendin' 
money  to  his  neighbors,  an'  wouldn't  take  no  security. 
They  don't  amount  to  more  'n  two  or  three  thousand 
dollars,  all  told.  The  best  thing  he  lied  wuz  his  stock 
in  th'  Bangor  Bank, — 'baout  one  hunnerd  shares  o' 
thet,  wuth  a  hunnerd  an'  fifty  dollars  a  share.  I  sh'd 
say  the  estate  wuz  wuth  p'rty  nigh  fifty  thousand  dol- 
lars, not  countin'  th'  Michigan  land,  an'  th'  island, 
which  I  don't  s'pose  is  wuth  much." 

Fifty  thousand  dollars!  The  amount  seemed  large 
to  Weston.  Since  his  father's  death,  his  means  had 
been  so  limited,  it  was  only  through  his  uncle's  aid 
that  he  had  been  able  to  finish  his  education.  Im- 


20  THE  STAKE 

patient  to  begin  work  and  earn  his  own  living,  he  had 
applied  for  and  been  promised  a  good  position  which 
he  expected  to  take  within  the  next  two  weeks,  im- 
mediately after  his  graduation.  Then,  in  the  midst 
of  his  final  examinations  came  the  letter  from  Squire 
Guilford. 

"  Fifty  thousand  dollars !  I  wish  Father  could  have 
had  it,"  he  thought.  "  It  might  have  pulled  him 
through.  I  wonder  if  he  ever  asked  Uncle  Dick  to 
help  him.  Probably  not.  What  a  contrast  in  their 
lives!  One  trying  to  escape  from  the  world  of  men 
to  the  world  of  nature, —  the  other  fighting  his  way 
amid  the  turmoil  and  distractions  of  the  city,  and  the 
business  struggles  of  men  of  activity." 

"  Whew !  "  exclaimed  the  squire.  "  It's  gittin'  hot, 
but  this  is  the  last  hill,  an'  when  we've  clum  to  th' 
top,  ye'll  git  a  whiff  o'  salt  air.  Keep  your  eyes 
peeled,  'cause  when  we  round  th'  top,  ye  can  see  the 
Atlantic  Ocean." 

Weston  roused  himself  from  his  reverie,  and  drew 
a  long  breath. 

"  I  can  smell  it  already,"  he  said. 

"  Thar  she  is !  Thar's  th'  sea ! "  cried  the  squire. 
"Whoa!  Whoa  thar!  Waal,  whut  d'ye  think  o'  thet 
f  er  a  paneramy  ?  " 

Standing  up  in  the  wagon,  Weston  gazed  out  over 
the  far-stretching  view  of  jagged  rock  and  dancing,  sun- 
lit waves. 

"  Look ! "  cried  his  companion,  pointing  with  his 
whip.  "  D'ye  see  thet  black  spot  off  thar, —  looks 
'baout's  big's  a  chunk  o'  cheese?  Thet's  Roger's 


THE  STAKE  21 

Island.     Thet's      yourn.     Ha  —  ha  —  ha  —  he  —  he  — 
he !    Haow'd  ye  like  t'  live  thar  ?  " 

"  There   might   be   worse   places,"    replied   Weston, 
smiling.    "  Perhaps  I'll  try  it  some  day." 


CHAPTER  II 

TO  the  living  Dick  Western,  filled  with  the  enthu- 
siasm of  young  manhood  and  animated  by  the 
hopes  and  possibilities  of  the  future,  it  was  a  strange 
experience  to  see  and  handle  the  forsaken  possessions 
of  that  other  Dick  Weston,  whose  life-work  was  ended, 
and  whose  results,  whether  failure  or  success,  were 
unchangeably  fixed  in  the  records  of  the  past. 

In  the  old-fashioned  sitting-room,  which  had  been 
his  uncle's  favorite  resort  for  many  years,  he  sat  in 
the  long-spindled  rocking-chair,  with  a  mass  of  papers 
spread  over  the  rag  carpet  at  his  feet,  and  tried  to  find 
courage  to  destroy  most  of  them.  Into  a  large  basket 
he  threw,  ruthlessly,  bundles  of  old  bills  and  receipts, 
packages  of  newspaper  clippings,  and  odds  and  ends 
which  might  have  been  treasured  mementos  of  the 
life  which  was  gone,  but  were  valueless  in  the  life 
which  was  to  come. 

Perched  upon  the  very  edge  of  the  seat  of  a  straight- 
backed  chair,  sat  Mrs.  Calista  Briggs,  usually  known 
as  Widow  Briggs,  and  commonly  called  "  the  widder." 
It  was  no  easy  matter  for  her  to  endure  the  advent  of 
a  new  master  into  the  house  where  for  years  she 
had  ruled  as  housekeeper,  and  where,  at  one  time,  she 
had  hoped  to  attain  a  higher  position.  That  the  late 
Dick  Weston  died  in  the  sanctity  of  bachelorhood  was 


THE  STAKE  23 

not  for  lack  of  a  helpmeet  ready  at  hand,  willing  to 
become  Mrs.  Weston ;  and  Mrs.  Briggs'  grief  over  the 
loss  of  a  generous  friend  and  employer  was  the  more 
poignant  that  she  could  not  express  it  in  widow's  weeds. 
As  a  substitute  for  this,  she  wore  a  dolorous  expres- 
sion upon  her  sharp  features,  emphasized  from  time 
to  time  by  a  very  audible  snuffle.  This  operation,  ac- 
companied by  the  frequent  use  of  her  handkerchief, 
had  given  to  her  long  pointed  nose  a  fiery  red  color. 
Her  dark  hair,  brushed  smoothly  over  her  ears,  was 
twisted  in  a  small  knot  at  the  back  of  her  head,  and 
her  piercing  black  eyes  watched  Weston  jealously,  as 
she  volunteered  information  in  a  high  nasal  voice. 

"  Them  letters  with  th'  blew  ribbon  air  private  cor- 
respondence," she  remarked,  as  Weston  picked  up  a 
package  of  old  yellow  envelopes,  whose  pink  three-cent 
stamps  told  of  the  sixties. 

"  Indeed !  "  said  Weston,  smiling.  "  Do  you  know 
who  wrote  them  ?  " 

"  Er  —  no  —  not  exactly.  He  —  kep'  'em  locked 
up  in  a  place  by  themselves." 

Weston  laid  them  aside  and  picked  up  another 
bundle  of  newspaper  clippings  tied  together  with  a 
black  ribbon. 

"  Death  notices,"  said  Mrs.  Briggs. 

"What,  all  of  them?" 

"  Yes.  He  used  to  cut  'em  all  out  of  th'  Weekly  Sen- 
tinel." 

"What  for?" 

"  Oh,  he  kind  o'  kep'  tab  of  ev'rybody  an'  their  family 
doin's.  Ye'll  find  a  bundle  o'  marriage  notices  too." 


24  THE  STAKE 

"  Perhaps  they're  valuable." 

"  I  never  could  see  no  use  fer  'em,  an'  they  wuz  allus 
in  th'  way,  'specially  at  house-cleanin'  time." 

"  Before  I  destroy  them,  I'll  find  out  if  anybody 
wants  them." 

"  T'  think  of  all  th'  time  he  spent  collecting  them 
things,  an'  now — "  Mrs.  Briggs  gave  an  unusually 
loud  snuffle. 

"  This  seems  to  be  a  lot  of  epitaphs  taken  from  tomb- 
stones," said  Weston,  carelessly  turning  over  the  leaves 
of  an  old  book. 

"  He  wuz  allus  praowlin'  'raound  th'  graveyard, 
writin'  daown  th'  names.  I  guess  he  hed  an  idee  o' 
puttin'  it  all  in  a  book,  so's  t'  hev  a  record  of  all  th' 
families  in  th'  taown." 

"  Perhaps  he  was  getting  material  for  a  town  his- 
tory. I  believe  I'll  bundle  all  this  stuff  in  a  box,  and 
turn  it  over  to  some  one.  Will  they  be  in  your  way, 
Mrs.  Briggs?" 

"  No  more'n  they  hev  been  fer  the  las'  ten  years." 

She  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  asked  abruptly : 

"  Wuz  ye  thinkin'  o'  hevin'  me  stay  here?  " 

"  Of  course.  Squire  Guilford  says  I'll  not  come  into 
actual  possession  for  a  year,  and  even  then  I  wouldn't 
sell  the  old  house  unless  I  needed  the  money  badly.  I 
thought  perhaps  you  could  stay  here  and  take  care  of 
the  place,  and,  with  a  man  to  help  you,  you  could 
get  enough  out  of  it  to  pay  for  keeping  it  up.  I 
wouldn't  ask  you  for  any  rent.  Don't  you  think  you 
could  do  it?" 

There  was  a  faint  expression  of  relief  in  the  hard, 


THE  STAKE  25 

bony  face,  but  her  words  gave  no  intimation  of  such 
a  sentiment. 

"  I  s'pose  I  could,  but  it'll  be  an  awful  chore.  Whut 
with  lookin'  arter  four  caows,  an'  a  passel  o'  hens, 
an'  keepin'  up  th'  garding,  t'  say  nothin'  o'  th'  haouse- 
work, —  but  I  ain't  one  to  shirk  my  dooty,  an'  I  s'pose 
I'll  hev  t'  do  it.  They  ain't  no  one  else  ye  c'd  git, 
that's  sure." 

It  was  a  relief  to  Weston  to  have  that  much  settled. 
He  had  been  at  Atherton's  Cove  for  three  days,  busied 
with  the  affairs  of  his  uncle's  estate.  There  was 
nothing  more  for  him  to  do  at  present.  He  could 
leave  the  rest  to  Guilford,  and  go  back  to  Boston  to 
finish  his  examinations  and  enter  upon  the  duties  of  his 
new  position. 

"  Hed  hard  work  persuadin'  her,  didn't  ye  ?  "  laughed 
the  squire,  when  Weston  explained  his  arrangement 
with  Mrs.  Briggs.  "  I'll  bet  she  let  on  she  wuz  doin' 
ye  a  favor.  Waal,  I'm  glad  ye  got  her  settled.  I 
swan  t'  goodness,  I  didn't  know  haow  ye'd  ever  git  her 
out  o'  th'  haouse,  onless  ye  burned  it  daown  over  her 
head.  She'll  take  good  care  of  it.  Don't  yew  worry. 
But  the  Lord  help  ye,  if  ye  ever  try  to  put  her  aout. 
She's  lived  there  s'  long,  she  thinks  she  owns  it.  An' 
she  would  ha'  owned  it  ef  Dick  hedn't  give  her  the 
slip  when  she  got  goin'  too  strong.  Yes,  sir,  I  b'lieve 
she'd  ha'  got  him  an'  all  th'  prop'ty,  ef  he'd  lived  a 
year  longer.  Why,  thet's  one  o'  th'  reasons  why  he 
used  t'  go  over  t'  th'  island  an'  stay  a  week  at  a  time, 
jes'  t'  git  away  from  th'  widder,  when  she  began  to 
git  too  strong  f  er  him." 


26  THE  STAKE 

Weston  reminded  his  companion  that,  for  a  year  at 
least,  he  was  in  charge  of  the  estate,  and  would  have 
to  deal  with  her  himself. 

"  Not  f er  me,  my  son !  Not  fer  me !  I  wouldn't 
dast  set  foot  in  th'  haouse  'thout  Mis'  Guilford  wuz 
by  my  side.  I'll  take  care  o'  th'  farm,  an'  c'lect  th' 
rent  from  th'  store,  an'  try  t'  c'lect  some  o'  th'  notes, 
but  I'll  not  look  arter  th'  haouse  while  thet  woman's 
there,  any  more'n  I'd  go  aout  an'  sleep  on  Roger's 
Island,  th'  way  yer  uncle  used  t'." 

"  How  far  is  it  to  the  island  ?  "  asked  Weston. 

"  'Baout  twenty  mile.  Ye  wan't  thinkin'  o'  goin' 
over  there  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I'd  like  to  see  the  place." 

"  Waal,  it  ain't  much  of  a  sail,  when  th'  wind's  fair. 
There's  yer  uncle's  old  dory  daown  by  th'  wharf.  Do 
ye  know  haow  t'  sail  a  boat  ?  " 

Weston  smiled. 

"  You  needn't  worry  about  that.  I've  sailed  on  the 
Sound  ever  since  I  was  twelve  years  old." 

"  Waal,  yew  know  best.  I  ain't  much  of  a  sailor 
myself.  But,  ef  ye  go,  I'd  advise  ye  t'  git  an  airly 
start  in  th'  mornin',  so's  t'  hev  plenty  o'  time  t'  git 
back  'fore  night.  They's  a  chance,  allus,  of  hevin' 
a  head  wind,  an'  fogs,  an'  p'rhaps  a  storm." 

"I've  been  out  in  all  kinds  of  weather,"  replied 
Weston  confidently.  "  If  uncle's  dory  is  in  good  con- 
dition, I'll  take  the  chances." 

"  Waal,  take  along  plenty  t'  eat  an'  drink,  'cause 
ye  might  git  'cammed.  When  ye  goin'  ?  " 

"  It's  too  late  to-day,  but  I'll  go  down  and  look  at 


THE  STAKE  27 

the  boat.  If  it's  all  right,  maybe  I'll  sail  over  to- 
morrow morning,  if  the  wind's  favorable.  You  say 
there  is  a  house  or  a  cabin  on  the  island?  " 

"  Mus'  be,  'cause  Dick  used  t'  stay  there  a  week  at 
a  time.  I  never  see  th'  place,  but  some  of  th'  fisher- 
men wuz  there,  an'  said  they  see  some  kind  of  a  shed 
on  top  o'  th'  rocks,  but  they  never  clum  up  to  it. 
Say  now,  yew  ain't  thinkin'  o'  stayin'  there  all  night, 
be  ye?" 

"  I  might,"  replied  Weston,  reflectively.  "  If  I  go 
as  far  as  the  island,  I  will  certainly  take  a  look  at  the 
house.  I  want  to  see  what  drew  him  to  such  an 
isolated  spot.  As  for  staying  there  all  night  —  well, 
you  needn't  worry  if  I  don't  come  back.  The  wind 
may  be  against  me,  or  it  may  be  too  stormy,  and  —  now 
that  I  think  of  it,  I'm  rather  inclined  to  spend  the 
night  there.  I'll  take  along  a  blanket,  and  plenty  to 
eat,  anyhow." 

The  more  he  thought  of  the  plan,  the  more  attractive 
it  seemed,  and  the  distant  sound  of  the  surf,  with  the 
smell  of  the  salt  air,  intensified  his  longing  to  be  out 
again  upon  the  water  as  in  his  boyhood  days. 

He  found  the  dory  in  charge  of  Captain  Jarvis,  more 
familiarly  called  "  Dad," —  an  old  sailor,  stranded  in 
port,  minus  one  leg,  and  indifferently  supplied  with 
means  of  hearing  and  seeing.  It  was  Dad's  special 
and  only  occupation  to  look  after  everybody's  business 
except  his  own.  Not  that  he  had  any  business,  but  that 
was  perhaps  a  result  rather  than  a  cause.  During 
the  season  he  was  the  maritime  oracle,  to  whom  the 
boarders  at  the  summer  hotel  turned  for  information 


28  THE  STAKE 

of  boating  and  fishing,  as  well  as  of  the  weather  and 
tides.  The  remaining  nine  months  of  the  year  found 
him  either  hibernating  in  his  little  cottage  at  the  foot 
of  the  cliff,  or  working  lazily  at  the  repairing  of  some 
of  the  small  craft  which  lay  in  the  harbor. 

To  him,  Weston  gave  the  job  of  getting  the  dory 
ready  for  use,  and  from  him  received  good  humoredly, 
a  great  deal  of  superfluous  advice. 

In  the  morning  he  found  the  boat  taken  from  its 
moorings  and  laid  alongside  of  the  wharf,  where  she 
rose  and  fell  gently  on  the  swell,  her  mast  set,  her 
woodwork  well  scrubbed,  and  a  keg  of  spring  water 
already  stowed  away  in  the  bow. 

"  Fine  day  for  a  sail,  Dad,"  cried  Weston,  as  he 
greeted  the  old  sailor,  soon  after  sunrise. 

"  Tol'ble,  tol'ble,"  was  the  reply.  "  Can't  tell  much 
abaout  th'  weather  in  May.  Wind's  li'ble  to  shift." 

He  sniffed  the  air,  rolled  his  eyes  wisely,  and  re- 
marked : 

"  Don't  smell  jes'  right." 

"  I've  got  a  stern  wind  straight  for  Roger's  Island," 
said  Weston,  "  and  if  I  am  to  get  back  to-night,  I'll 
want  it  to  shift.  The  swell  doesn't  bother  me,  so  long 
as  I  get  a  breeze." 

"  Ye  orter  take  some-un  along  t'  help  ye.  Be  ye 
used  t'  sailin'  ?  " 

"  I've  handled  a  boat  ever  since  I  can  remember, 
but  I'd  be  glad  to  have  you  come  along  with  me  for 
company." 

"Ain't  got  time  to-day.  An*  say,  ef  yer  goin'  t' 
Roger's  Island  an'  ba.ck  'fore  night,  ye'd  better  git 


THE  STAKE  29 

started.  Ye  don't  want  t'  git  ketched  arter  dark 
'thout  ye  know  th'  course.  They's  a  sight  o'  rocks  out 
yonder,  but  ef  ye  keep  a  straight  line  from  the  Nar- 
rows, ye've  got  clear  sailin'." 

An  hour  later,  Weston  sat  in  the  dory,  with  sail  full 
spread,  speeding  out  through  the  entrance  of  the 
harbor,  headed  for  the  island.  The  boat  held  straight 
on  its  course,  and,  resting  his  arm  on  the  tiller,  he 
stretched  out  lazily  and  gave  himself  up  to  dreams,  now 
and  then  glancing  ahead  to  see  that  his  direction  was 
true,  or  slightly  shifting  the  helm  to  meet  a  sudden 
gust  of  wind. 

Young,  ambitious,  and  eager  to  plunge  into  the  ac- 
tivities of  life,  there  yet  hung  over  him  the  shadow 
of  the  grief  and  trouble  which  had  saddened  and  em- 
bittered the  past  few  years.  The  death  of  his  father 
had  followed  a  long  disheartening  business  struggle 
against  overwhelming  odds;  for  Robert  Weston  had 
fallen  victim  to  the  new  order  of  things  by  which  in- 
dependent American  manhood  must  yield  to  the  irre- 
sistible power  of  combined  wealth. 

When  the  great  syndicate  which  had  persistently 
absorbed  one  industry  after  another,  found  this  man 
unwilling  to  yield  to  its  humiliating  demands,  it  pre- 
pared to  crush  him.  The  result  was  inevitable.  After 
a  long  fight  which  exhausted  all  his  energies  and  capi- 
tal, the  unfortunate  man  had  gone  down  to  his  grave 
in  defeat,  defiant  to  the  last. 

His  wife  soon  followed  him,  leaving  their  only 
child,  a  grief-stricken  lad  of  twenty,  to  face  the  world 
alone.  And  then,  when  the  future  seemed  darkest, 


30  THE  STAKE 

there  had  come  to  the  orphaned  boy  a  message  of  cheer 
and  a  promise  of  help  from  that  lonely  man,  his  uncle, 
of  whom  he  knew  so  little,  and  to  whom  he  could  never 
make  any  return  for  his  generosity. 

The  memory  of  all  this  came  to  Dick  Weston  this 
bright  sunny  morning  as  he  sailed  through  the  Nar- 
rows, headed  for  Roger's  Island.  But  even  the  sun- 
shine and  the  exhilaration  of  the  sea  air  could  not 
drive  the  gloom  from  his  thoughts,  as  he  recalled  his 
father's  wrongs,  and  all  he  had  suffered.  He  was  filled 
with  a  desire  for  revenge  or  some  kind  of  retaliation 
upon  the  men  or  the  system  which  had  caused  such 
conditions.  But  what  could  he  do?  Nothing.  As 
well  drive  his  little  craft  against  the  immovable  and 
jagged  front  of  that  great  rock  towards  which  he  was 
sailing. 

He  was  nearing  the  island  now  and  could  observe 
its  desolate  and  forbidding  appearance.  The  west  side 
was  an  inaccessible  cliff  rising  a  hundred  feet  or  more 
from  the  water's  edge.  No  vegetation  of  any  kind  was 
visible,  but  flocks  of  sea  birds  hovered  along  its  sides, 
circling  in  air  or  perching  on  its  projecting  crags. 
Changing  his  course,  Weston  worked  his  way  around 
the  southern  end  of  the  island,  where  the  sides  of  the 
rock  appeared  more  broken,  with  here  and  there  little 
inlets,  in  one  of  which  he  determined  to  try  a  landing. 
With  some  difficulty  he  brought  his  boat  about,  and 
with  the  aid  of  an  oar  pushed  his  way  through  a  narrow 
opening  which  seemed  to  offer  a  favorable  channel. 
To  his  surprise  he  found  that  it  widened  out  con- 
siderably, forming  a  kind  of  harbor  within  which 


THE  STAKE  31 

floated  four  large  logs  securely  bound  together  and 
fastened  to  a  heavy  iron  ring  firmly  fixed  in  the  solid 
rock. 

Convinced  that  he  had,  by  good  chance,  discovered 
his  uncle's  landing-place,  Weston  brought  his  boat 
alongside  of  the  logs  and  went  ashore.  Following  a 
path  which  led  upwards,  winding  in  and  out  among  the 
bowlders  and  crags,  he  finally  reached  the  top  of  the 
cliff  and  paused,  hot  and  panting,  to  look  out  over  the 
broad  expanse  of  water. 

Away  in  the  distance  he  could  see  the  coast  line  and 
the  sunlight  shining  upon  the  whitewashed  houses  at 
Atherton's  Cove,  while  to  the  south  and  east  stretched 
the  ocean,  with  here  and  there  a  sail,  faintly  visible, 
and  the  trailing  smoke  of  a  steamer  besmirching  the 
pale  blue  of  the  distant  horizon. 

The  isolation  of  the  place  was  complete.  Here, 
where  he  stood,  was  Nature  in  her  primeval  condi- 
tion. The  world  of  art  and  invention,  of  human  pas- 
sion and  human  ambition,  lay  far  away.  The  petty 
things  of  life  could  have  no  abiding  place  here  where 
the  outlook  was  broad  and  unbroken.  His  own  feel- 
ings gave  him  some  insight  into  that  peculiar  element 
of  his  uncle's  character  which  had  induced  him  to  seek 
a  spot  of  solitude  far-removed  from  the  companionship 
of  his  fellow-men. 

Curious  to  know  more,  he  turned  to  follow  the  path 
which  led  up  a  slight  incline  to  the  very  pinnacle  of 
the  great  rock,  where  the  prospect  opened  towards  the 
north.  Near  at  hand  stood  a  cluster  of  bowlders,  not 
unlike  the  ruins  of  some  ancient  dolmen,  which  formed 


32  THE  STAKE 

a  natural  protection,  and  here,  snugly  sheltered  on 
three  sides  by  immovable  walls,  had  been  placed  a  small 
hut  or  cabin  constructed  of  heavy  timbers,  with  a  door 
and  one  window  facing  south  and  a  low  roof  spreading 
to  the  rocks  on  either  side.  The  front  of  the  building 
was  about  fifteen  feet  across,  and  at  each  corner  stood 
a  barrel  to  catch  the  water  from  the  eaves.  Near  the 
door  was  a  low  bench  upon  which  Weston  seated  him- 
self, and,  wiping  the  perspiration  from  his  brow,  gave 
himself  up  again  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  view. 

Upon  his  left  he  observed  that  the  island  sloped 
gradually  downward  towards  the  northeast,  with  a 
path  leading  to  the  water's  edge.  At  first  he  won- 
dered why  his  uncle  had  not  chosen  this  part  of  the 
shore  for  his  landing-place.  The  reason,  however,  was 
soon  evident,  as  his  eye  caught  sight  of  a  line  of  out- 
lying rocks  which  made  the  waters  on  this  side  of  the 
island  almost  impassable. 

The  reef  seemed  to  stretch  out  into  the  sea  a 
quarter  of  a  mile,  and  against  it  the  dashing  waves 
kept  up  a  constant  roar.  Even  in  a  mild  wind,  the 
churning  of  the  waters  spread  in  all  directions  a  white 
foam,  through  which  the  black  jagged  points  stood  out 
like  ugly  fangs,  threatening  death  to  any  reckless  mar- 
iner who  might  approach  them. 

Fascinated  with  the  sight,  Weston  lingered  for  some 
time  to  watch  the  endless  play  of  the  surf,  now  leaping 
in  air,  now  hissing  and  gliding  among  the  rocks,  now 
sullenly  retiring  for  another  dash.  At  last  he  rose, 
and  unlocking  the  door  with  a  key  which  he  found 
hanging  at  the  side,  entered  the  cabin,  but  paused  a 


THE  STAKE  33 

moment,  after  crossing  the  threshold,  to  survey  the  in- 
terior. 

The  floor,  well-laid  and  even,  was  covered  with  a 
large  rag-carpet  rug.  In  the  farther  corner  stood  a 
cot-bed,  ready  for  use.  On  the  other  side  of  the  room 
was  a  cook  stove,  and  near  it  a  pile  of  wood,  while  on 
the  wall  adjoining,  were  shelves  bearing  a  few  dishes 
and  utensils.  At  the  foot  of  the  bed  stood  a  wash- 
stand,  and  in  the  foreground  was  a  square  table  cov- 
ered with  a  red  cloth,  and  a  lamp  standing  in  the  cen- 
ter. In  a  rack  were  a  few  books,  a  spyglass,  and  a 
clock.  There  were  two  chairs,  a  chest,  a  pair  of  heavy 
boots  on  the  floor  near  the  stove,  and  an  oil-skin  coat 
and  sou'wester  hanging  on  a  nail. 

Weston  took  all  this  in  at  a  glance,  and  then  entering 
the  room,  opened  a  small  window  at  the  rear  and  threw 
back  the  shutters,  letting  in  the  fresh  air  and  bright 
sunlight. 

At  first  he  had  an  uncanny  feeling,  as  he  thought  of 
the  man  who  had  last  occupied  this  tiny  home.  But 
this  soon  passed  away  and  he  became  interested  in  ex- 
amining the  many  things  which  had  been  supplied  to 
make  the  place  habitable.  The  firewood  must  have 
been  brought  from  home,  he  decided,  for  there  cer- 
tainly could  be  no  wood  on  the  island.  Upon  the 
shelves  there  were  cans  containing  coffee,  salt,  sugar, 
and  other  necessities  for  housekeeping.  Below  these, 
on  the  floor,  stood  a  can  of  oil  and  a  lantern,  and  near  by 
was  a  water  pail  and  dipper.  There  was,  in  the  at- 
mosphere of  the  room,  a  sense  of  solitude,  of  retirement 
from  the  world,  which  appealed  to  Weston's  mood  and 


34  THE  STAKE 

gave  him  a  delightful  feeling  of  comfort  and  cozy  se- 
clusion. 

Looking  at  his  watch,  he  found  that  it  was  after 
one  o'clock,  and  suddenly  discovered  that  he  was 
hungry.  Opening  the  lunch  basket  which  he  had 
brought  from  the  boat,  he  spread  upon  the  table  the 
bountiful  supply  of  food  that  Mrs.  Guilford  had  pro- 
vided, and  sat  down  to  his  meal  with  a  relish  which 
was  heightened,  perhaps,  by  a  sense  of  proprietorship. 
From  time  to  time  he  looked  about  the  room  with  full 
enjoyment  of  the  novelty  of  the  situation,  until,  yield- 
ing to  the  inviting  influence  of  the  place,  he  decided  to 
stay  all  night,  to  sleep  there  amid  the  sound  of  the 
waves  dashing  on  the  rocks;  then  to  get  up  at  sunrise, 
have  breakfast  —  including  a  cup  of  hot  coffee  cooked 
on  the  stove  —  and  sail  home  in  the  cool  of  the  early 
morning. 

He  lighted  his  pipe,  tipped  back  in  his  chair,  and 
looked  out  through  the  door,  as  through  a  picture 
frame,  at  the  rolling  waves,  touched  by  the  afternoon 
sun.  For  some  time  he  sat  contentedly  smoking  and 
musing  until,  as  the  afternoon  began  to  wane,  he  rose 
and  busied  himself  about  the  cabin,  airing  the  bed, 
filling  the  lamp  with  oil,  and  preparing  a  fire  for  his 
next  meal.  Later  he  went  down  to  his  boat  and 
brought  up  a  pail  of  water  from  the  keg,  with  other 
things  he  might  need.  Then  finding  that  he  had  nearly 
two  hours  before  sunset,  he  set  out  to  explore  the 
island.  When  he  returned  it  was  time  for  supper,  and 
this  finished,  he  sat  down  on  the  bench  outside  the 
door  to  enjoy  the  sunset. 


THE  STAKE  35 

Up  from  the  west  shot  great  tongues  of  red  that 
tinted  the  scudding  clouds  which  began  to  appear  over- 
head. The  sea  became  golden,  then  fiery,  then  duller 
and  duller,  until,  as  Weston  turned  towards  the  east, 
he  found  it  a  sullen  gray,  with  an  ominous  background 
of  storm  clouds.  He  noticed,  too,  that  the  wind  had 
shifted,  and  was  bringing  a  chill  dampness  from  the 
northeast.  Knocking  the  ashes  from  his  pipe,  he  went 
indoors,  lighted  the  lamp,  and,  selecting  at  random  a 
book  from  the  rack,  he  settled  himself  comfortably  in 
an  easy  chair  for  a  quiet  evening. 

For  about  an  hour  he  read,  hardly  able  to  fix  his 
mind  on  the  pages  before  him,  until  he  found  himself 
nodding  drowsily.  Throwing  aside  the  book,  he  rose 
with  a  yawn,  and,  going  to  the  door,  looked  out  into 
the  night.  The  sky  was  now  heavily  overcast,  and  the 
wind  fast  becoming  a  gale.  From  the  reef  on  the  east 
shore  arose  a  snarling,  crashing,  hissing  sound,  as  the 
breakers  tore  their  way  among  the  ragged  rocks.  From 
where  the  sea  broke  against  the  cliffs,  there  came  a 
constant  roar,  and  through  it  all  could  be  heard  the 
whistling  of  the  wind,  as  it  found  each  crevice  and 
chasm. 

This  storm  music  continued  to  ring  in  Weston's 
ears  after  he  went  to  bed,  but,  drowsily  conscious  of 
the  turmoil  without,  and  with  a  delightful  sense  of  the 
cozy  shelter  of  his  cabin,  he  yielded  at  last  to  the  fa- 
tigue and  excitement  of  the  day,  and  sank  into  the  pro- 
found slumber  of  healthy  youth. 


CHAPTER  III 

IT  was  about  midnight  that  Weston  was  awakened 
by  a  crash  of  thunder  which  left  him  sitting  upright 
in  bed,  bewildered  and  confused.  In  the  inky  darkness 
he  could  see  nothing,  but  a  sense  of  strange  surround- 
ings quickened  his  mind,  and  he  soon  remembered 
where  he  was.  The  next  instant  a  sharp  flash  of  light- 
ning revealed  the  interior  of  the  cabin;  another  peal 
of  thunder  followed,  and,  as  it  rolled  away  in  sullen 
growls,  he  could  hear  the  beating  of  the  rain  upon  the 
roof,  and  the  dismal  howling  of  the  wind,  now  wailing 
in  plaintive  tones,  now  shrieking  in  fury;  and,  through 
all,  the  deep  diapason  of  the  sea,  as  it  roared  beneath 
the  scourge  of  the  tempest. 

Weston  rose,  went  to  the  window,  and  peered  out 
into  the  night,  but  even  the  constant  flashes  of  light- 
ning revealed  only  the  driving  sheets  of  rain.  He 
lighted  the  lamp  and  looked  at  his  watch.  He  had 
been  asleep  only  a  few  hours.  As  he  moved  about  the 
room,  his  eye  caught  the  oil-skin  coat  and  hat,  and  the 
heavy  boots  which  seemed  to  have  been  provided  for 
just  such  weather.  The  idea  occurred  to  him  to  put 
them  on  and  go  out  into  the  storm.  In  a  few  minutes 
he  was  dressed  and  completely  encased  in  the  water- 
proof garments.  Taking  the  lantern  with  him,  he 
opened  the  door  and  plunged  out  through  a  torrent  of 


THE  STAKE  37 

rain  which  deluged  him  from  head  to  foot.  With  dif-. 
ficulty  he  closed  the  door  and  tried  to  look  about  him, 
but,  beyond  the  circle  of  light  cast  by  his  lantern,  every- 
thing was  in  pitch  darkness.  On  the  eastern  side  of 
the  island  he  could  hear  the  waves  ceaselessly  dashing 
among  the  jagged  rocks  of  the  reef,  and  a  brilliant 
flash  of  lightning  gave  him  a  momentary  view  of  the 
masses  of  white  spray  which  shot  up  into  the  air  from 
the  boiling,  seething  maelstrom  at  the  foot  of  the  slope. 

Suddenly  in  the  midst  of  the  discord  of  sounds  there 
came  to  his  ear  the  deep  hoarse  whistle  of  a  steamer, 
repeated  at  regular  intervals. 

"  What  an  awful  night  to  be  on  the  water ! "  he 
thought. 

The  wind  brought  the  sound  more  distinctly. 

"  That  seems  like  a  call  of  distress,"  he  muttered. 
"  It  can't  be  far  east  of  here." 

Again,  and  clearer  came  the  weird  note,  like  a  call 
for  help. 

"  Nearer  than  that !  By  George,  I  hope  they  know 
what  they're  about !  " 

Holding  his  lantern  above  his  head,  he  moved  slowly 
and  carefully  a  short  distance  away  from  the  cabin 
and  tried  to  determine  the  location  of  the  sound.  Now 
it  was  lost  entirely  in  the  babel  of  noises  about  him, 
and  then  a  fiercer  blast  of  the  gale  would  bring,  clear 
and  distinct,  that  monotonous  cry,  which  seemed  almost 
human  in  its  appeal. 

"  They  are  certainly  coming  nearer,"  he  said  to  him- 
self, with  a  feeling  of  impending  horror,  as  he  crept 
cautiously  further  and  further  towards  the  cliff.  Sud- 


38  THE  STAKE 

denly  there  came  to  him  through  the  turmoil,  the  sound 
of  machinery  and  hissing  steam. 

"  My  God !  "  he  cried  aloud.  "  They  are  coming  this 
way!" 

Upon  the  impulse,  he  shouted  at  the  top  of  his  lungs, 
and  waved  his  lantern  to  and  fro,  but  in  the  next  mo- 
ment, realized  the  uselessness  of  his  efforts.  There 
was  no  doubt  that  the  steamer  was  rapidly  approaching 
the  eastern  shore  of  the  island,  and  Weston  shuddered 
as  he  thought  of  the  reef  of  jagged  rocks  upon  which 
it  must  inevitably  be  wrecked  if  it  held  to  its  course. 

Again  he  waved  his  lantern  in  the  forlorn  hope  that 
it  might  be  seen.  In  the  next  instant,  as  if  in  answer 
to  his  signal,  a  sheet  of  lightning  shot  over  the  waters, 
and  revealed  the  ill-fated  craft  only  a  short  distance 
away,  drifting  before  the  wind,  and  bearing  straight 
down  upon  the  rocks. 

She  appeared  to  be  a  steam  yacht,  and  was  evidently 
disabled,  for  Weston  could  no  longer  hear  her  engines, 
and  she  seemed,  in  the  brief  glimpse  which  he  had  of 
her,  to  be  rolling  helplessly  in  the  trough  of  the  sea. 

"  It's  a  wonder  that  she  hasn't  foundered  before 
this,"  said  he,  shuddering  at  the  thought.  "  But  it's 
all  up  with  her  now;  and  here  I  stand,  unable  to  help 
them." 

The  knowledge  that  there,  almost  within  reach  of 
his  voice,  human  beings  were  going  to  their  death,  hor- 
rified him.  In  his  utter  helplessness,  he  could  think 
of  nothing  to  do.  Tortured  by  the  thought,  and  unable 
to  endure  the  inaction,  he  scrambled  down  the  hill  as 
fast  as  he  dared,  stumbling  over  loose  rocks,  slipping, 


THE  STAKE  39 

sliding,  with  his  lantern  held  high  and  his  arm  stretched 
out  to  help  break  the  dash  of  the  rain,  which  beat  upon 
his  face  and  well-nigh  choked  him.  At  last  he  came 
to  where  the  wash  of  the  waves  swept  up  to  his  feet. 
Cautiously  feeling  his  way,  and  seeking  shelter,  from 
time  to  time,  behind  the  rocks,  he  finally  reached  a  point 
beyond  which  he  dared  not  venture.  Here,  clinging 
to  an  immense  bowlder,  he  waited,  still  holding  his 
lantern  on  high,  and  facing  in  the  direction  of  the 
yacht.  The  waves  swirled  about  him,  but  still  he 
waited,  with  the  fascination  of  horror,  for  the  awful 
sound  which  he  knew  must  come. 

At  last  he  heard  the  crash  as  the  vessel  struck  the 
reef,  and  then  another,  as  she  was  lifted  high  and 
dashed  upon  those  sharp  and  hungry  fangs.  Then,  in 
a  flash  of  lightning,  he  saw  her,  a  ruined  thing,  torn 
and  smashed,  and  in  the  power  of  the  cruel  and  merci- 
less sea. 

But,  in  that  one  glimpse  of  her,  he  saw  also  a  boat 
being  lowered  from  her  side,  and  frantic  forms  seeking 
this  one  forlorn  chance  of  escape.  He  shouted,  and 
waved  his  lantern.  Alas!  What  hope  was  there?  A 
boat  could  not  live  in  those  waters  two  minutes.  He 
staggered  under  the  force  of  a  great  wave  whose  spray 
strangled  and  blinded  him,  but  recovered  himself  and 
again  waved  his  lantern.  Now  he  heard  an  answering 
shout.  He  called  again  to  encourage  them.  It  was 
all  he  could  do.  Another  flash  showed  the  boat  not 
a  hundred  yards  from  him,  struggling  among  the  break- 
ers; then,  in  the  deep  darkness  which  followed,  he 
heard  a  scream,  a  crash,  and  knew  that  out  there  in 


40  THE  STAKE 

the  blackness  of  the  night,  just  beyond  reach  of  his 
arm,  human  beings  were  going  down  to  their  death  in 
the  hungry  waves. 

Breathlessly  he  listened  for  some  sound.  He  stared 
into  the  gloom,  waiting  for  he  knew  not  what.  Then, 
without  any  warning,  a  gigantic  wave  struck  him,  some- 
thing was  hurled  against  him,  a  woman's  voice  screamed 
in  his  ear,  and  he  was  carried  backward  against  the 
rock,  clinging  to  the  form  which  lay  in  his  arms,  gasp- 
ing for  breath,  and  with  a  sharp  pain  in  the  back  of 
his  head. 

Stunned  and  bleeding,  he  struggled  to  bring  his  bur- 
den to  the  higher  ground.  In  the  darkness  he  could 
only  guess  at  the  direction,  except  as  the  flashes  of 
lightning  gave  him  a  momentary  view  of  his  surround- 
ings. When,  at  last,  he  came  to  where  the  waves  could 
no  longer  reach  him,  he  turned  once  more  towards  the 
sea,  and  listened  for  some  cry  from  those  unfortunate 
ones  who  had  come  so  near  to  rescue,  but  no  sound 
reached  his  ear,  save  the  incessant  roar  of  the  waters. 
He  tried  to  look  at  the  face  of  the  woman,  lying  limp 
and  motionless  in  his  arms. 

"  Do  you  think  you  could  stand  ? "  he  called,  but 
there  was  no  answer. 

Determined  that  this  one  life,  at  least,  should  be 
saved,  he  started  up  the  hill,  pausing  now  and  then  to 
get  his  bearings,  as  the  flashes  of  lightning  illuminated 
the  rocky  slope  and  showed  him  the  path.  Holding 
fast  the  unconscious  form,  he  struggled  on,  panting  and 
stumbling,  until  he  saw  the  lamplight  shining  from  the 
window  of  his  cabin.  By  an  almost  superhuman  ef- 


THE  STAKE  41 

fort,  he  reached  the  door,  threw  it  open,  and  staggered 
into  the  room. 

A  blast  of  wind  extinguished  the  lamp,  but  he  found 
his  way  to  the  bed,  laid  down  his  burden,  and  then, 
thoroughly  exhausted,  he  dropped  into  a  chair,  com- 
pletely overcome,  groaning  with  pain,  and  gasping  from 
weakness. 

The  rain  beat  through  the  open  door,  but  he  could 
not  stir.  Cut  and  bruised,  drenched  and  chilled  to  the 
bone,  his  eyes  smarting,  his  head  ringing,  he  fought 
to  regain  his  senses.  When  he  attempted  to  rise,  his 
knees  gave  way,  and  he  almost  fell  to  the  floor.  Drag- 
ging himself  across  the  room,  he  managed  to  shut  the 
door,  and  then,  leaning  against  the  wall,  found  a  match 
and  lighted  the  lamp. 

For  a  moment  his  eyes  were  dazzled,  and  then  he 
saw  within  reach  of  his  hand,  his  lunch  basket,  and  a 
bottle  of  home-made  wine  which  Mrs.  Guilford  had 
fortunately  provided.  Pouring  some  into  a  glass,  he 
took  it  to  the  bedside,  and  tried,  with  trembling  hands, 
to  force  some  of  the  wine  between  the  lips  of  the  seem- 
ingly lifeless  girl.  He  placed  his  ear  close  to  her 
breast,  and,  to  his  relief,  heard  the  faint  beating  of 
her  heart.  Taking  one  of  the  heavy  comforters  from 
the  foot  of  the  bed,  he  wrapped  her  body  in  it,  raised 
her  head,  and  again  tried  to  force  some  of  the  wine 
into  her  mouth.  She  gave  a  faint  sigh,  moaned,  and 
rolled  her  head  from  side  to  side. 

Weston  racked  his  brains  to  think  of  some  other 
remedy,  and  then  remembering  that  he  had  prepared 
the  stove  for  cooking  his  breakfast,  he  found  another 


42  THE  STAKE 

match,  and  soon  had  a  fire  burning  briskly,  with  a  ket- 
tle of  water  simmering  over  the  flame.  He  was  busied 
about  this  for  several  minutes,  and  when  at  last  he 
turned  once  more  to  the  bed,  he  found  two  frightened 
eyes  looking  up  at  him,  while  a  trembling  voice  was 
saying : 

"Where  is  Mabel,  and  —  and  —  Mrs.  Ellison?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Weston  truthfully. 

The  girl,  who  seemed  to  be  quite  young,  stared  at 
him  in  surprise,  and  tried  to  rise. 

"Wait!"  said  Weston,  gently.  "You  mustn't  get 
up  just  yet.  Take  some  more  of  this  wine,  and  as 
soon  as  the  water  boils,  I'll  make  you  a  cup  of  tea  or 
coffee." 

"  I  don't  know  who  you  are,"  said  she  in  a  trembling 
voice.  "  Where  am  I  ?  " 

"  You're  perfectly  safe.  But  you  are  terribly  ex- 
hausted. You  must  keep  quiet  until — " 

He  was  interrupted  by  a  low  cry. 

"  Oh !  I  remember  now.  The  awful  storm,  and  — 
and  the  rocks  —  we  tried  to  get  away  —  the  boat  —  oh 
—  oh—" 

She  covered  her  eyes  with  her  hand  and  sobbed  bit- 
terly. 

Weston  turned  away  and  busied  himself  about  the 
fire.  He  felt  stronger  now,  and  he  knew  that  he  had 
much  to  do.  He  looked  at  his  watch,  and  found  that 
there  was  still  an  hour  before  daylight.  Meanwhile  he 
could  hear  outside  the  storm  raging  with  unabated 
force.  The  room  was  getting  hot,  and  the  air  was 
filled  with  the  odor  of  damp  clothing.  He  had  re- 


THE  STAKE  43 

moved  his  oil-skins  and  boots,  and  now  as  he  searched 
among  the  dishes  for  a  coffee-pot,  he  turned  again 
towards  the  bed,  and  found  those  two  eyes  anxiously 
watching  him. 

"  Do  you  feel  better  now  ?  "  he  said,  with  a  reassur- 
ing smile. 

She  did  not  answer  him  at  first,  and  then,  "  Where 
are  the  others  ?  "  she  asked  plaintively. 

Weston  hesitated. 

"  I  really  don't  know,"  he  stammered.  "  I  hope  —  I 
hope  they  were  saved.  You  know  it  was  very  dark, 
and  —  and  I  couldn't  see  very  well." 

"  But  you  found  me." 

"Yes,  but— " 

"  Then  why  didn't  you  help  the  others  ?  Why  did 
you  bring  me  here  alone  ?  " 

"  I  saw  no  one  but  you." 

"  But  you  should  have  waited.  Won't  you  please  go 
back  and  find  the  others?" 

"Now?" 

"  Yes.  Please  go  now.  And  bring  them  here.  I'll 
wait.  I'll  not  run  away." 

Weston  looked  at  her  with  pity.  She  seemed  so 
young  and  so  helpless.  Her  white  face,  framed  in  a 
mass  of  black  hair,  wet  and  draggled,  was  turned  to 
him  with  an  appeal  which  went  to  his  heart.  How 
could  he  tell  her?  How  could  he  care  for  her?  If 
only  some  woman  were  present  to  give  her  a  woman's 
attention!  He  came  to  her  side  and  tried  to  take  her 
hand.  She  shrank  from  him  and  a  look  of  fear  came 
into  her  eyes. 


'44  THE  STAKE 

"Won't  you  trust  me?"  he  said  gently,  looking 
down  upon  her. 

She  stared  at  him,  and  tried  to  speak,  but  he  could 
not  hear  her  words. 

"  Do  you  remember  how  you  tried  to  get  to  shore  in 
the  boat?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  she  whispered. 

"And  how  you  struck  against  a  rock,  and  all  were 
thrown  into  the  water  ?  " 

She  did  not  answer,  but  the  look  of  anxiety  and  fear 
came  again  into  her  eyes. 

"  I  was  standing  on  the  shore  waiting  to  help  if  I 
could.  You  were  the  only  one  cast  up  by  the  waves. 
In  the  darkness  I  could  see  nothing  —  could  hear  noth- 
ing of  the  others.  The  storm  and  the  sea  beat  upon 
me,  but  I  fought  my  way  to  safety,  and  brought  you 
here.  It  was  all  I  could  do." 

She  buried  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  he  turned 
away. 

Later,  when  he  brought  her  a  cup  of  coffee,  she  shook 
her  head.  But  when  he  insisted  that  she  drink  it,  she 
took  the  cup  from  his  hand,  and  raising  herself  upon 
her  elbow,  she  sipped  it  slowly,  her  eyes  fixed  upon  him, 
as  though  still  in  doubt. 

"  Do  you  feel  warm  now  ?  "  he  asked. 

She  nodded  her  head. 

"  Whenever  you  are  strong  enough  to  sit  up,  I'll  carry 
you  to  the  chair,  and  you  can  dry  your  clothes  by  the 
fire.  They  must  be  soaking  wet." 

He  tried  to  speak  in  a  matter-of-fact  tone,  but  she 
made  no  reply.  Her  silence  embarrassed  him.  He 


THE  STAKE  45 

turned  away,  poured  a  cup  of  coffee  for  himself,  and 
went  to  the  table  where  stood  his  lunch  basket. 

"  There  is  some  food  here,"  he  said.  "  Won't  you 
eat  something?" 

"Thank  you!    No." 

He  faced  her  impatiently. 

"  I  think  you  should  take  some  food.  I  am  sure 
you  are  hungry.  Come,  try  this  piece  of  chicken,  or  — 
here's  a  sandwich." 

He  forced  the  food  into  her  hands,  and  waited  until 
he  saw  her  eat  it. 

"There!  That's  better.  Now,  don't  you  feel  able 
to  get  up?" 

At  first  she  did  not  reply.  Then  a  faint  flush  came 
to  her  cheek  as  she  asked: 

"  Is  there  no  one  else  in  the  house  to  help  me  —  no 
—  no  woman  ?  " 

"  No  one,"  he  replied.  "  This  is  all  there  is  of  the 
house  —  just  this  one  room." 

"And  no  one  next  door?"  she  inquired. 

He  did  not  smile.  His  pity  for  her  helplessness  made 
him  gravely  tender. 

"You  don't  understand,"  he  said  gently.  "We  are 
on  an  island  —  a  great  rock  in  the  midst  of  the  ocean. 
This  is  the  only  house,  and  we  two  are  the  only  in- 
habitants of  this  small  spot  of  earth." 

The  look  of  fear  came  again  to  her  eyes. 

"  But  how  —  how  shall  I  get  to  shore  ?  How  shall 
I  ever  get  home?  Home!  Oh,  shall  I  ever  see  home 
again  ?  " 

She  turned  her  face  away  from  him,  and  wept  softly. 


46  THE  STAKE 

"  As  soon  as  possible,  I'll  take  you  a-shore.  Please 
don't  grieve  over  it  any  more.  Come.  You  must  trust 
me.  Can't  you  overcome  the  fear  you  show  every  time 
I  speak  to  you?  I  am  no  ogre,  no  cannibal,  just  a 
plain  ordinary  man,  although  from  present  appear- 
ances you  might  think  I  was  the  ghost  of  Robinson 
Crusoe." 

She  was  looking  up  at  him  now  through  her  tears, 
and,  as  he  finished,  she  said  bravely,  with  a  faint  smile 
upon  her  face : 

"  Forgive  me.  This  has  made  a  coward  of  me,  and 
my  mind  has  been  so  confused,  I  can  hardly  understand 
it  all,  even  now.  I  do  trust  you,  Mr. —  Mr. — " 

"  Crusoe,"  he  said,  smiling.  "  And  now  that  you're 
all  right  I'm  going  to  leave  you  for  a  short  time.  It 
has  stopped  raining,  and  there  must  be  a  little  light  in 
the  east.  I'm  going  down  to  the  shore  to  see  if  I  can 
find  any  trace  of  your  friends." 

"Oh,  do  you  think  that  any  of  them  were  saved?" 
she  cried,  looking  up  at  him  appealingly. 

"  I'm  afraid  not,"  he  replied,  gravely  shaking  his 
head, 

Sitting  down,  he  pulled  on,  with  difficulty,  the  wet 
and  soggy  boots.  The  exertion  gave  him  a  twinge  of 
pain,  and  he  realized  how  lame  and  bruised  he  was 
from  his  terrible  battle  with  the  storm.  Taking  the 
oil-skin  coat  and  hat  from  the  hook,  he  put  them  on, 
and  started  for  the  door. 

"  Don't  raise  any  false  hopes,  and  don't  worry  if  I 
am  gone  for  some  time,"  said  he.  "  I'll  make  a  thor- 
ough search." 


THE  STAKE  47 

She  was  lying  with  her  face  resting  upon  her  hand 
on  the  pillow,  her  eyes  following  his  every  movement. 

"  You  are  very  tired,  aren't  you?  "  she  said. 

"  A  trifle  lame,  perhaps,  but  that  will  wear  off  in  a 
few  minutes.  I  was  pretty  badly  bumped  and  thumped 
last  night,  and  the  cold  made  me  a  little  stiff.  Good-by ! 
Look  for  me  in  half  an  hour." 

Outside,  the  rain  had  ceased  entirely,  but  the  gale 
continued  as  strong  as  ever.  In  the  faint  light  of  the 
coming  dawn,  Weston  could  see  the  mountainous  waves 
which  rolled  about  his  island,  and  dashed  against  cliff 
and  rock,  sending  great  jets  of  spray  high  into  the  air. 

Cautiously  he  made  his  way  down  the  rocky  slope 
to  the  spot  where  he  had  stood  in  the  darkness,  and 
witnessed  the  tragedy  of  the  night.  In  the  gray  light 
of  approaching  day,  he  could  see  the  lashing  of  the 
waters,  as  they  beat  upon  the  rocks,  and  realized,  more 
than  ever,  the  utter  hopelessness  of  escape  for  any- 
thing which  came  within  their  grasp.  Upon  the  reef 
where  the  steamer  had  struck,  not  one  vestige  of  her 
was  to  be  seen.  Amidst  the  raging  waters,  not  an  atom 
of  her  wreckage  was  visible.  He  crept  among  the 
rocks  along  the  shore,  venturing  out  as  far  as  he  dared, 
searching  everywhere  for  some  tangible  evidence  of 
what  he  had  seen,  as  in  a  dream,  only  a  few  hours  be- 
fore. But  along  the  shore  and  out  upon  the  waters, 
there  was  nothing. 

As  he  climbed  the  hill  once  more,  he  thought  of  the 
girl's  singular  reticence  and  fear.  Poor  thing!  It  was 
no  wonder  that  the  terrible  experience  of  the  night  had 
dazed  and  frightened  her.  And  then  the  loneliness  of 


48  THE  STAKE 

her  position!  No  woman  to  comfort  her!  A  man  — 
a  stranger  —  her  sole  companion  in  this  desolate  place. 
Realizing  his  obligation  to  protect  her  and  relieve  the 
distress  of  her  mind,  he  knew  that  he  must  treat  her 
with  special  gentleness  and  courtesy,  if  he  would  win 
her  confidence.  He  recalled  how  white  her  face  had 
been,  as  she  looked  up  at  him  out  of  those  big  doubting 
eyes.  It  was  a  sweet  face,  though. 

Just  before  he  reached  the  cabin,  he  turned  aside  and 
followed  the  path  down  to  the  cove  where  he  had  left 
his  boat.  The  rocks  were  wet  and  slippery,  and  he 
found  it  difficult  to  keep  his  footing,  but  at  last  he  came 
to  the  bottom  of  the  steps,  and  stood  upon  the  spot 
where  he  had  first  landed.  To  his  surprise,  the  dory 
was  lying  bottom  up,  her  stern  resting  on  the  logs,  while 
her  bow  still  hung  by  the  painter  to  the  iron  ring  where 
he  had  fastened  it.  Her  broken  mast  floated  not  far 
away,  and,  to  his  consternation,  he  saw  that  one  side  of 
the  boat  was  badly  crushed.  Even  in  this  protected 
spot,  the  waves  came  tumbling  in  with  a  surging  wash 
which  tossed  the  logs  up  and  down,  and  pounded  them 
against  the  rocks.  The  constant  thumping  of  the  boat 
had  damaged  her  so  badly  that  she  would  probably 
have  sunk  where  she  lay,  had  she  not,  by  chance,  been 
tossed  upon  the  logs.  From  where  he  stood,  it  was 
impossible  to  see  the  full  extent  of  the  injury,  but, 
clearly  enough,  the  boat  would  never  float  until  she  had 
been  repaired.  He  tried  to  cross  the  logs  to  where  she 
lay,  but  the  danger  was  too  great,  and  he  gave  it  up. 
Even  if  he  were  able  to  repair  her,  he  knew  it  would 
be  folly  to  venture  to  sea,  except  in  the  most  favorable 


THE  STAKE  49 

weather,  and  as  for  sailing  her  back  to  Atherton's  Cove, 
that  was  out  of  the  question.  There  was  nothing  to  do 
but  wait  until  some  one  came  for  him.  Ordinarily,  it 
would  not  matter,  but  the  girl —  He  climbed  the  hill 
again,  and  walked  slowly  towards  the  house. 

"  What  a  predicament !  "  he  muttered.  "  How  can 
I  tell  her?" 

He  knocked  at  the  door,  opened  it,  and  stopped  on 
the  threshold  in  surprise.  She  was  standing  near  the 
table,  and  turned  to  meet  him. 

"  Please  do  not  laugh  at  me,  Mr. —  Mr.  Crusoe. 
Your  home  doesn't  furnish  an  attractive  variety  of  gar- 
ments for  ladies'  use.  There  was  no  other  way.  My 
clothes  had  to  be  dried." 

She  laughed  nervously,  as  though  not  far  from  cry- 
ing. With  the  red  table  spread,  the  counterpane,  and 
such  other  material  as  she  could  find,  she  had  arranged 
a  nondescript  attire,  which  would  indeed  have  pro- 
voked a  laugh,  had  it  not  been  for  the  pitiful  necessity 
which  required  it.  But  even  in  the  poverty  of  her 
wardrobe,  she  had  found,  in  some  unaccountable  way, 
a  ribbon  with  which  to  tie  back  her  hair,  which  hung 
in  two  long  braids  over  her  shoulders.  And  through 
her  embarrassment,  her  eyes  looked  bravely  into  his, 
and  challenged  the  chivalry  of  his  manhood. 

Removing  his  hat,  he  bowed  gallantly,  and  said: 

"  In  this  little  kingdom,  you  are  the  first  lady.  In 
matters  of  fashion  and  etiquette,  you  are  supreme." 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  plaintive  beauty  of  the  face  before  him,  and 
the  sense  of  the  girl's  dependence  upon  him, 
aroused  in  Dick  Weston  such  a  feeling  of  sympathy, 
that  he  hardly  knew  how  to  express  it.  She  seemed  so 
young,  so  gentle,  and  so  forlorn,  he  hesitated  to  tell 
her  of  the  fruitlessness  of  his  search.  Under  his  steady 
gaze,  a  faint  flush  came  to  her  cheek,  and  then  paled 
again  as  she  said: 

"  You  found  no  one  —  no  sign  of  my  friends  ?  " 

He  shook  his  head  sadly. 

"  And  there  is  nothing  more  you  can  do  ?  " 

"  Nothing." 

She  went  to  the  window,  rested  her  head  upon  her 
arm,  and  looked  out  over  the  desolate  prospect.  Wes- 
ton saw  that  she  was  weeping,  and  forebore  to  speak 
to  her.  Removing  his  boots  and  outer  coat,  he  went 
to  the  stove,  stirred  up  the  fire,  and  prepared  to  cook 
more  coffee.  To  his  surprise,  the  girl  came  to  his  side 
and  said: 

"  Let  me  help  you.  I  know  you  are  tired.  If  you 
will  rest  awhile  I'll  get  breakfast  ready." 

Her  voice  was  low  but  steady,  and  when  she  ob- 
served his  hesitation,  she  added: 

"  I  am  perfectly  well  and  strong  now." 

Yielding  to  her  request,  he  sat  down,  and  was  sur- 


THE  STAKE  51 

prised  to  find  how  tired  he  was.  It  seemed  as  though 
every  bone  in  his  body  ached.  The  warmth  of  the  fire, 
and  his  fatigue,  made  him  drowsy,  and  he  watched  the 
girl  as  through  a  haze,  while  she  busied  herself  about 
the  room.  Not  once  did  she  look  towards  him,  and  he, 
overcome  by  the  strain  through  which  he  had  passed, 
was  silent.  Her  slender,  white  hands  placed  dishes  on 
the  table,  and  arranged  the  food  from  the  basket.  In 
spite  of  her  ludicrous  costume,  she  bore  herself  with 
a  dignity  which  won  Weston's  admiration,  as  he  wit- 
nessed her  brave  effort  to  overcome  the  depression  of 
her  grief.  At  last  she  turned  to  him. 

"  Breakfast  is  served,  Mr.  Crusoe,"  she  said,  with  a 
faint  smile.  "  Will  you  come  to  the  table  ?  " 

As  Weston  stretched  his  stiffened  limbs  and  struggled 
to  his  feet,  he  suddenly  remembered  the  condition  of 
the  boat. 

"  What  if  we  should  be  marooned  on  the  island  for 
days !  "  he  thought.  "  What  would  we  do  for  food?  " 

Fortunately  there  was  plenty  of  water  in  the  barrels 
outside  the  door,  but,  alas,  there  was  nothing  to  eat 
except  the  small  supply  of  provisions  he  had  brought 
in  his  basket.  The  grave  look  in  his  face  seemed  to 
give  the  girl  a  premonition  of  some  new  peril. 

"What  is  it?"  she  whispered. 

"  Nothing,"  he  replied,  evasively,  as  he  went  to  the 
table  and  sat  down. 

She  remained  standing. 

"  Will  you  please  tell  me  ?  "  she  said. 

"What  shall  I  tell  you?" 

"Tell  me  what's  the  matter." 


52  THE  STAKE 

Then,  as  he  still  hesitated,  she  exclaimed  impatiently : 

"  Don't  treat  me  like  a  child.  After  what  I  have 
been  through,  nothing  else  can  frighten  me.  You  asked 
me  to  trust  you.  Won't  you  trust  me  ?  " 

"  The  boat  is  so  badly  damaged,  we  can't  use  it." 

"The  boat?     I  do  not  understand.    What  boat?" 

"  My  boat.  Our  only  means  of  getting  to  shore, 
unless  some  one  comes  for  us." 

"  But  some  one  will  come?"  she  asked,  breathlessly, 
sitting  down  at  the  table,  and  looking  intently  into  his 
face. 

"Yes,  but—" 

"  Well,  what  is  it  you  fear?  " 

"  I'll  tell  you,"  he  said,  raising  his  head  with  a  new 
determination.  "  You  are  brave  and  sensible,  and  will 
not  give  way  to  unreasonable  fear.  This  storm  may 
last  several  days.  No  one  will  dare  venture  out  from 
the  shore.  As  soon  as  they  can  do  so,  I  am  sure  my 
friends  will  come  for  me,  but,  in  the  meantime,  we 
must  remain  here,  and  —  and,  this  is  all  the  food  we 
have." 

He  looked  dubiously  at  the  few  slices  of  bread,  the 
remains  of  the  chicken,  a  piece  of  pie,  a  couple  of 
doughnuts,  some  pickles,  and  a  bit  of  cheese. 

"  Isn't  it  possible  for  any  one  to  come  for  us  to-day?  " 
asked  the  girl  anxiously. 

"  No,  I  am  quite  sure  we  shall  have  to  stay  until 
to-morrow,  at  least.  And  by  to-morrow,  we  shall  have 
nothing  left  to  eat." 

"  Oh,  we  shall  not  starve,"  said  she  nervously.  "  I 
am  not  worried  about  that.  But  I  wish  there  were 


THE  STAKE  53 

some  way  to  get  to  shore.  I  can't  stay  here  —  it's  very 
inconvenient  —  I  mean  —  oh,  dear,  can't  you  think  of 
any  way  ?  " 

He  shook  his  head  helplessly. 

"  If  I  knew  of  any  chance  of  escape,  I  wouldn't  have 
given  you  this  worry.  The  best  I  can  do  is  to  hoist  a 
signal  in  the  hope  of  attracting  some  passing  boat,  al- 
though it's  doubtful  that  any  one  would  venture  out  in 
such  a  gale.  I  am  very  sorry." 

She  studied  his  face  for  a  moment,  and  then  with  a 
smile,  she  said: 

"  We'll  make  the  best  of  it.  It  is  a  strange  predica- 
ment. One  reads  of  such  things  in  novels,  but  I  never 
thought  it  would  happen  to  me.  What  would  my  friends 
think  if  they  could  see  me  now?  My  friends!  Oh,  I 
forgot." 

She  turned  away  to  hide  her  tears,  and  Weston,  op- 
pressed by  a  sense  of  his  helplessness,  took  down  the 
spyglass  and  went  out  of  the  door. 

Standing  on  the  highest  point  of  the  island,  he  care- 
fully searched  the  sea  for  some  sign  of  a  steamer  or 
craft  of  any  kind.  Everywhere  was  a  broad  expanse 
of  raging,  tossing  waters,  in  which  he  knew  no  small 
boat  could  live.  Yet,  for  half  an  hour  he  stood  there, 
hoping  for  a  sight  of  something.  At  last  he  took  the 
spyglass  from  his  eye,  and  dropped  his  arm  wearily. 
It  was  useless  to  think  of  any  relief  while  the  gale  con- 
tinued. 

"  Have  you  discovered  anything  ?  "  said  a  voice  at  his 
side. 

He  turned  with  a  start. 


54  THE  STAKE 

"  No,"  he  replied  reluctantly.     "  Nothing  yet." 

Then  as  he  observed  the  look  of  disappointment  in 
her  face,  he  added: 

"  You  mustn't  be  discouraged  though.  Some  one  is 
sure  to  come  for  us.  Ah !  I  see  you  have  changed  the 
fashion  again." 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  with  a  pitiful  attempt  to  appear 
cheerful.  "  Wash-day  is  over.  I  am  able  to  lay  aside 
my  disguise." 

In  her  restored  garments,  although  they  still  showed 
the  effects  of  last  night's  drenching,  she  presented  an 
entirely  different  appearance.  With  frank  admiration, 
Weston  observed  her  graceful  figure  and  the  unaffected 
beauty  of  her  face,  to  which  the  sea  breeze  had  brought 
a  faint  color.  Her  full  round  neck  rose  from  the  open 
collar  of  her  blouse,  and  gave  her  head  a  certain  poise 
of  dignity.  Her  dark  hair  was  drawn  back  in  a  knot, 
and  over  her  forehead  the  wind  blew  a  few  scattering 
strands. 

"  Show  me  where  we  were  wrecked,"  she  said,  as  he 
watched  her. 

"  Down  there  among  those  rocks  where  the  waves 
dash  highest.  I  can't  point  out  the  exact  spot  where 
the  steamer  struck.  It  was  so  dark,  I  could  only  see  in 
the  flashes  of  lightning.  A  little  to  the  right  of  the 
reef  and  nearer  in  shore,  beside  that  sharp  rock,  is 
where  the  lifeboat  was  destroyed,  and  where  you  were 
thrown  into  the  water." 

He  saw  that  she  was  trembling  and  overcome  by  the 
memory  of  that  awful  time,  and  the  terrible  fate  of  her 
friends. 


THE  STAKE  '  55 

"  Come,"  he  said  gently.  "  Let's  return  to  the  house. 
The  air  is  damp  and  chilly,  and  the  sight  is  de- 
pressing." 

"  No,  I  prefer  to  stay  here,"  she  replied. 

"  Then  I'll  go  for  a  wrap.  You  must  have  some  pro- 
tection from  this  wind." 

He  went  to  the  house,  and  soon  returned  with  the 
table  spread,  which  he  laid  across  her  shoulders. 

"  It  was  the  only  thing  I  could  find,"  said  he. 

"  Thank  you.  It  was  thoughtful  of  you.  I  believe 
I  was  a  little  chilly.  Where  did  you  find  me  last  night  ?  " 

"  Just  beyond  that  large  bowlder,"  he  replied,  pointing 
out  the  spot. 

"  But  that  is  in  the  water.  Was  I  thrown  against 
it?" 

"  Yes  —  that  is  to  say  — " 

"  I  can't  understand  how  I  escaped  without  any  in- 
jury. See  how  the  waves  dash  against  the  rock.  And 
yet,  I  wasn't  even  bruised." 

"  No.  For  the  simple  reason  that  I  caught  you.  I 
was  standing  there,  just  outside  the  rock,  holding  my 
lantern  above  my  head,  hoping  to  guide  your  boat  to 
the  shore.  Then  it  capsized,  and  the  next  moment  a 
great  wave  hurled  you  into  my  arms.  You  see,  it  was 
a  very  simple  matter." 

"  But  it  was  a  brave  thing  for  you  to  do.  Last  night, 
when  I  first  awoke  from  my  stupor,  I  was  frightened 
and  confused.  You  must  have  thought  me  very  un- 
gracious. It  was  childish  of  me.  I  should  have  trusted 
you  at  once.  Forgive  my  rudeness." 

She  was  blushing  charmingly  now,  and  Weston,  glad 


56  THE  STAKE 

to  win  her  attention  away  from  the  scene  of  the  disas- 
ter, said  cheerfully: 

"  I  am  glad  to  be  admitted  to  your  favor.  You  really 
were  a  little  doubtful  about  me,  at  first,  weren't  you? 
But  I  don't  blame  you.  My  appearance  was  not  very 
reassuring.  Don't  you  want  to  walk  across  to  the  other 
side  of  the  island,  where  we  can  get  a  better  view  of 
the  mainland  ?  " 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said.  "  Do  you  think  some  one 
will  come  for  us  ? '.' 

"I  —  I  hope  so,"  he  replied  soberly.  "  Not  for 
awhile  though.  Not  in  this  storm." 

Battling  with  the  wind,  they  clambered  among  the 
rocks,  now  and  then  stopping  to  recover  breath,  or  to 
look  out  over  the  deserted  stretch  of  waters.  When  a 
sudden  burst  of  the  gale  threatened  to  throw  her  from 
her  feet,  she  did  not  hesitate  to  take  his  proffered  arm, 
and  to  steady  herself  against  his  side.  Satisfied  that 
he  had,  at  last,  won  her  confidence,  Weston  tried  to  di- 
vert her  thoughts  from  her  grief  and  anxiety. 

"  There  lies  the  coast  over  there,"  he  said,  pointing 
to  the  west.  "  But  the  waves  are  so  high  you  can 
hardly  see  it.  When  I  left  there  yesterday  morning, 
the  sea  was  quite  calm,  and  the  breeze  just  strong  enough 
to  bring  me  over.  '  Old  Dad,'  the  boatman,  was  right. 
He  said  he  smelt  a  change  in  the  weather." 

"  He  will  be  worried  about  you,  won't  he?  " 

"Who?  Dad?  Not  he.  Dad  knows  that  I  am  on 
the  island,  and  wouldn't  venture  out  in  such  a  storm. 
Besides,  I  told  him  I  might  stay  all  night." 

"  Then  you  don't  live  here?" 


THE  STAKE  si 

"  Live  here  ? "  laughed  Weston.  "  No,  indeed. 
What  put  that  idea  into  your  head  ?  " 

"  I  thought  perhaps  you  were  a  lighthouse  tender, 
or  a  fisherman,  or  —  or  —  just  Mr.  Crusoe." 

"  No,  thank  heaven !  I  live  on  shore,  and  not  in  this 
desolate  place,  although  strange  to  say,  it's  one  of  the 
few  spots  of  earth  which  I  can  call  my  own." 

"  What  is  the  name  of  the  town?  "  she  asked,  looking 
out  over  the  sea  towards  the  shore. 

"  Atherton's  Cove,"  he  replied. 

"  Is  it  a  pleasant  place  to  live  in  ?  " 

"  Yes.  A  fishing  village  most  of  the  year,  and  a  sum- 
mer resort  during  the  hot  season." 

"  I'm  sorry  to  have  my  illusion  of  a  modern  Robinson 
Crusoe  dispelled.  I  had  been  building  up  quite  a  ro- 
mantic story  of  your  life  in  this  wild  spot." 

"  Will  you  tell  me  the  plot  ?  "  he  asked,  smiling  down 
into  her  upturned  face. 

"  No,"  she  replied,  "  because  it's  all  changed  now ; 
Mr.  Crusoe  proves  to  be  only  a  fancy,  and  you  are 
Mr.  — " 

She  paused  and  waited  for  him  to  fill  in  the  name. 

"  Weston  —  Dick  Weston." 

"  Dick  Weston,"  she  repeated  slowly.  Then  raising 
her  head,  and  looking  up  to  him,  she  added: 

"  I  hope  you  will  meet  my  father  and  mother,  some- 
time, Mr.  Weston.  They  will  want  to  thank  you  for 
your  kindness  to  me." 

"  You  mustn't  magnify  my  service.  I  risked  nothing. 
I  was  simply  the  shelter  into  which  you  were  cast." 

She  shook  her  head  slowly. 


58  THE  STAKE 

"  You  underrate  your  courage." 

"  It  would  be  a  fine  thing  to  be  a  hero,"  he  said  with 
a  laugh,  "  but  I'm  afraid  I  couldn't  qualify.  And  now 
that  I  have  told  you  my  name,  may  I  know  yours?  " 

"  I  am  Louise  Ellsworth." 

The  sound  of  her  own  name  seemed  to  remind  her 
again  of  her  strange  and  lonely  position  and  the  loss  of 
her  friends.  A  shadow  came  over  her  face,  she  turned 
away  and  went  slowly  towards  the  house.  Weston  fol- 
lowed close  beside  her,  uncertain  of  her  mood. 

"  Won't  you  go  inside  and  rest  now  ?  "  he  asked,  as 
they  came  to  the  door.  "  You  haven't  overcome  the 
strain  of  last  night.  It  was  a  terrible  tax  upon  your 
strength." 

"  Being  a  woman,  I  suppose  I  must  plead  guilty.  It's 
a  pity,  Mr.  Weston,  that  you  have  burdened  yourself 
with  such  a  helpless  creature  as  I  am,"  she  said,  as  she 
went  into  the  house. 

For  some  time  Weston  sat  outside  on  the  bench,  smok- 
ing his  pipe,  and  trying  to  think  of  some  way  of  escape ; 
some  means  of  getting  food;  some  plan  to  lighten  the 
burden  of  grief  of  this  girl,  for  whose  comfort  and 
safety  he  had  become  responsible.  He  knew  that  the 
gale  might  continue  for  days,  and  that,  during  that  time, 
no  one  would  venture  out  from  Atherton's  Cove,  while 
any  large  vessels  out  at  sea,  would  give  Roger's  Island 
a  wide  berth.  A  signal  flag  by  day,  or  a  fire  by  night, 
would  therefore  be  of  little  use,  even  if  he  could  find 
a  pole  for  the  one,  or  fuel  for  the  other.  There  was 
nothing  to  do  but  to  wait,  unless  —  yes,  there  was  the 
dory.  Perhaps  he  could  patch  it  up.  But  even  then 


THE  STAKE  59 

he  would  not  dare  to  take  it  out  in  such  weather.  Still 
it  was  the  only  chance  left,  and  he  determined  to  look 
at  the  boat  once  more,  and  find  out  just  what  damage 
had  been  done. 

It  lay  just  as  he  had  found  it  earlier  in  the  morning, 
and,  in  spite  of  the  danger,  he  ventured  out  upon  the 
slippery  logs,  balancing  himself  with  difficulty,  as  they 
rose  and  fell  with  the  surge  of  the  sea,  which  every  few 
moments  burst  into  the  little  cove  with  a  roar,  as  if  its 
fury  would  destroy  even  this  sheltered  spot.  When  he 
reached  the  dory,  and  had  climbed  upon  it,  he  found  that 
one  side  was  badly  smashed,  but,  below  the  water  line, 
the  oak  planking  had  withstood  the  shock,  and,  although 
badly  crushed,  was  not  actually  torn  away.  As  he 
leaned  over  the  farther  side  to  examine  it  closely,  a 
fierce  wave  struck  the  logs,  and,  in  the  lurch  which  fol- 
lowed, Weston  felt  himself  slipping  into  the  water.  His 
struggles  to  regain  his  balance  only  made  matters  worse. 
Before  he  fully  realized  his  danger,  he  was  pitched  head- 
long overboard.  Good  swimmer  as  he  was,  he  found 
it  no  easy  task  to  withstand  the  force  of  the  waves 
which  dashed  over  his  head  as  he  rose  to  the  surface, 
but,  fortunately,  he  was  only  a  few  feet  from  the  logs, 
and,  exerting  his  full  strength,  he  managed  to  reach 
them,  and  climbed  to  safety,  where  he  lay,  stretched  at 
full  length,  panting  from  his  exertions,  and  well-nigh 
exhausted. 

Recovering  himself,  he  quickly  decided  that  it  was 
useless  to  attempt  to  repair  the  boat  until  the  sea  went 
down,  so  he  made  it  fast,  and,  crawling  over  the  logs, 
to  the  shore,  he  set  out  to  return  to  the  cabin.  But  it 


60  THE  STAKE 

was  no  easy  task  to  climb  the  steep  path.  His  clothes 
were  heavy  and  dripping  at  every  step,  and  the  force 
of  the  wind  held  him  back.  When  at  last  he  reached  the 
top  of  the  cliff,  he  found  Miss  Ellsworth  standing  only 
a  short  distance  from  him,  looking  about  her  anxiously 
in  all  directions.  As  she  caught  sight  of  him,  she  cried 
out: 

"  Where  have  you  been  ?  You  disappeared  so  com- 
pletely, I  was  afraid  you  had  left  me." 

"  There's  no  danger  of  that,"  he  laughed. 

"  The  thought  of  being  left  here  alone  gave  me  the 
horrors,"  she  exclaimed.  "  Oh,  dear !  What  a  helpless 
creature  a  woman  is,  in  such  a  predicament  as  this. 
Yet,  she  always  thinks  herself  equal  to  any  emergency. 
Are  you  going  back  to  the  house  ?  It  must  be  time  for 
dinner." 

As  they  started  along  the  path,  she  noticed  that  his 
clothes  were  drenched. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Weston !  "  she  cried.  "  What  has  hap- 
pened ?  Your  clothes  are  soaking  wet." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  made  a  wry  grimace. 

"  I  have  just  taken  an  unexpected  bath." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  asked,  looking  at  him 
anxiously. 

"Just  took  a  header  from  the  boat  —  that's  all." 

"The  boat?" 

"  Yes  —  my  dory.  I  was  trying  to  find  out  how  badly 
it  was  smashed.  As  luck  would  have  it,  I  fell  into  the 
water." 

She  stood  for  a  moment,  looking  intently  at  him. 

"  You  were  in  danger  ?  "  she  asked. 


THE  STAKE  61 

"  Oh,  no." 

"  You  might  have  been  drowned." 

"  Indeed,  there  was  little  danger  of  that,"  he  replied. 

"  But  you  might  have  been  drowned,"  she  said.  "  Oh, 
this  horrible  ocean !  I  shall  never  want  to  see  it  again, 
if  I  ever  reach  shore.  But  really,  Mr.  Weston,  you 
mustn't  go  about  in  these  wet  clothes.  If  you'll  go  to 
the  house  and  change  them,  I'll  wait  here  until  you 
come  back." 

"  That's  good  advice,  but,  unfortunately,  I've  no 
change  with  me.  You  see — " 

"  There  are  some  clothes  in  the  chest  near  the  win- 
dow," she  said.  "  I  saw  them  there  this  morning." 

"  They  must  be  some  of  my  uncle's,"  he  replied.  "  I'll 
go  and  see." 

She  watched  him  curiously  as  he  went  towards  the 
house,  but,  when  he  turned  at  the  door  to  look  back  at 
her,  she  was  gazing  intently  seaward. 


CHAPTER  V 

IT  was  a  strange  phase  of  the  strange  companionship 
of  these  two  persons  met  together  for  the  first  time, 
that  to  neither  of  them  came  any  thought  of  a  past  life 
in  connection  with  the  other.  To  Weston,  the  girl  was 
a  new-born  creature,  sprung  Venus-like  from  the  sea. 
In  that  period  of  time  before  she  came  to  him,  there 
might  have  been  for  her  another  existence,  and  other 
surroundings ;  but  all  that  was  a  sealed  book  into  which 
he  had  no  desire  to  look.  And  she,  having  found  this 
remarkable  refuge  from  the  peril  through  which  she  had 
passed,  associated  the  man  with  the  place.  To  her,  he 
was  an  integral  part  of  the  whole  surroundings.  The 
great,  isolated  rock,  the  lonely  cabin,  the  man, —  all 
seemed  combined  by  fate  to  rescue  and  preserve  her. 
His  watchful  attention  to  her  unspoken  wishes,  his  ef- 
forts to  cheer  her,  his  earnest  desire  to  remove  her  fears 
and  to  strengthen  her  confidence  in  him, —  all  of  these 
things  added  to  her  interest  in  him,  and  she  found  herself 
accepting  as  a  friend  and  companion,  this  man,  who, 
only  yesterday,  was  a  stranger  to  her. 

By  the  end  of  their  second  meal  together,  there  had 
come  to  each  a  sense  of  the  intimacy  of  their  fellowship. 
Over  Weston  it  cast  a  charm  which  awakened  romantic 
dreams  and  suggested  possibilities  which  startled  him. 
He  had  a  vague  feeling  that  perhaps  fate  had,  in  some 


THE  STAKE  63 

way,  linked  their  lives  together.  The  thought  was  al- 
luring. Sitting  there  alone  with  her,  the  spell  of  her 
presence  filled  his  mind  with  fancies,  which  his  better 
sense  told  him  were  foolish.  With  an  effort,  he  tried 
to  shake  them  off,  and,  looking  across  the  table  at  her, 
said  lightly : 

"  What  a  change  from  yesterday.  Then  I  sat  here 
alone,  and  little  thought  I  should  be  here  to-day,  with 
you  as  my  guest." 

"  And  you  little  thought  that  I  would  be  appropriating 
your  provisions  at  the  expense  of  your  appetite,"  she 
replied,  with  a  comical  expression  of  sympathy. 

"  Indeed,  I'm  not  hungry,"  said  he,  flushing  guiltily. 

She  shook  her  head  and  smiled. 

"  Hereafter  we  must  divide  in  equal  portions,  as  long 
as  the  food  lasts.  But  I  hope  this  is  not  a  case  of 
starvation.  Surely  some  one  will  come  to-morrow." 

He  looked  doubtfully  out  of  the  window. 

"I'm  afraid  —  that  is  to  say  —  I  hope  so." 

There  was  a  tone  of  uneasiness  in  his  answer  which 
was  echoed  by  a  shrill  wail,  as  the  wind  swept  around 
the  little  house.  The  girl  looked  anxiously  into  his 
face. 

"  Is  the  storm  growing  worse  ?  "  she  asked,  nervously. 

"  The  wind  is  rising  again." 

"  And  that  means  we  must  stay  here  another  day  ?  " 

"  No  one  will  venture  out  in  this  kind  of  sea." 

"And  you  can  think  of  no  way  to  get  ashore?" 

The  pain  and  disappointment  in  her  voice  hurt  him. 
He  wanted  to  allay  her  anxiety,  but  what  could  he  say  ? 
For  a  few  minutes  both  were  silent,  and  then  Weston 


64  THE  STAKE 

rose  and  began  searching  through  the  cabin.  The  girl 
raised  her  head  and  watched  him.  curiously,  until,  as  he 
started  for  the  door,  she  said : 

"  Where  are  you  going?  " 

"  Down  to  the  boat.     I  must  try  to  patch  it  up." 

"What  for?" 

"  So  that  I  can  use  it.  If  no  one  comes  to-morrow 
morning,  perhaps  I  could  work  my  way  in  and  get  help." 

"  Oh,  no,  no ! "  she  cried,  springing  to  her  feet. 
"  Please  don't  try  that.  You  would  be  drowned  in  this 
horrible  sea,  and  I  should  be  the  cause  of  it.  I  can't  let 
you  go." 

Then,  realizing  that,  in  her  anxiety,  she  had  spoken 
too  freely,  she  exclaimed  with  a  nervous  laugh : 

"  If  you  desert  me,  Mr.  Weston,  I'm  afraid  the  next 
visitor  to  this  lonely  spot  would  find  only  my  bleaching 
bones.  It  would  serve  me  right,  though,  for  complaining 
as  I  did." 

"  I  had  no  thought  of  deserting  you.  You  know  I 
wouldn't  do  that." 

"  Well,  don't  try  to  frighten  me  again.  I'm  such  a 
coward,  I  would  imagine  all  kinds  of  dangers  if  I  were 
left  alone  here." 

Weston  hesitated  a  moment 

"  Very  well,"  he  said.  "  I'll  do  as  you  say.  But  I 
must  try  to  fix  the  boat.  It  will  be  just  as  well  to  have 
it  ready  in  case  we  need  it." 

He  turned  towards  the  door,  but  paused  again  when 
she  said  plaintively : 

"Oh,  must  you?" 

"  Why?    Surely  there's  no  danger  in  doing  that." 


THE  STAKE  65 

"  You  tried  it  this  morning,  and  were  nearly  drowned." 

He  smiled.  It  flattered  him  to  feel  that  she  was  anx- 
ious for  his  safety. 

"  I'll  be  more  careful  this  time." 

"  May  I  go  with  you?  "  she  asked,  blushing  again  at 
her  temerity. 

"  It  will  be  safer  for  you  here.  The  wind  is  high,  the 
rocks  are  slippery,  and  you  would  be  drenched  with 
spray.  I  would  rather  have  you  stay  here." 

His  words  were  decisive,  and  sounded  like  a  com- 
mand. She  knew  that  he  was  right ;  that  it  would  add 
to  his  difficulty  if  she  went;  but  it  piqued  her  that  he 
should  refuse  her  request,  and  she  showed  her  disap- 
pointment. 

"  Of  course,  if  I  should  be  in  your  way, — "  she  be- 
gan, but,  without  heeding  her  words,  he  was  already  out 
of  the  house,  and  on  his  way  down  to  the  boat. 

With  the  limited  materials  which  he  had  been  able 
to  find,  and  no  tools  except  a  knife  and  a  hatchet,  he  set 
to  work  to  repair  the  damage.  Where  it  was  possible  to 
do  so,  he  forced  the  planks  back  into  place,  using  pieces 
of  sailcloth  to  caulk  the  seams  and  to  cover  the  larger 
openings,  over  which  he  also  fastened  small  strips  of 
wood  torn  from  the  inside  fittings  of  the  boat.  When  he 
had  exhausted  his  resources,  and  could  think  of  nothing 
more  which  he  could  do,  he  straightened  himself,  and 
dubiously  surveyed  the  result  of  his  carpentering.  The 
boat  could  hardly  be  called  seaworthy,  but  at  least  it 
would  float  and  might  be  safe  enough  to  carry  them 
ashore. 

It  was  already  growing  dark  as  he  reached  the  cabin. 


66  THE  STAKE 

When  he  entered,  he  found  Miss  Ellsworth  standing  by 
the  table,  lighting  the  lamp. 

"  This  looks  cozy,"  he  said.    "  But  it's  fierce,  outside/' 

"Is  it  storming  hard?"  she  asked,  without  turning 
her  head  towards  him. 

"  The  wind  is  rising  to  a  gale,  but  it's  hot  raining  very 
hard." 

With  the  coming  of  the  night,  the  embarrassment  of 
their  situation  became  more  apparent,  and  Weston  found 
his  companion  silent  and  unresponsive. 

"  Shall  I  read  aloud  ?  "  he  asked,  taking  a  book  from 
the  shelf.  "  We've  a  choice  of  three  subjects :  *  Salad 
for  the  Solitary,'  *  Thaddeus  of  Warsaw,'  and  *  John 
Halifax.'  Which  shall  it  be?  " 

"  Thank  you,"  she  replied.  "  My  head  aches,  and 
I'm  not  in  the  mood  for  reading."  There  were  tears  in 
her  eyes,  and  a  plaintive  tone  in  her  voice. 

"  You've  been  through  a  terrible  ordeal,"  he  said, 
gently.  "  No  woman  could  have  endured  it  more 
bravely  than  you  have.  I  know  you're  very  tired,  so  I 
want  you  to  lie  down  on  the  cot  and  go  to  sleep.  I'm 
going  to  take  one  of  the  comforters,  and  stretch  out  in 
the  rocker.  I  believe  I  could  sleep  twelve  hours  without 
waking." 

"  I  am  very  tired,"  was  her  only  reply,  as  she  went  to 
the  bed  and  lay  down. 

Weston  sat  for  half  an  hour,  idly  turning  the  leaves  of 
a  book,  but  the  pages  conveyed  nothing  to  his  mind, 
which  was  busied  with  other  thoughts,  chief  among 
which  was  the  thought  of  the  girl  whose  brief  compan- 
ionship had  aroused  such  a  new  interest  in  his  life. 


THE  STAKE  67 

And  slie,  studying  his  face  through  her  half -closed 
eyes,  gradually  overcame  her  fear,  and  knew  instinctively 
that  she  was  safe  in  his  care. 

The  rain  beat  upon  the  roof,  and  the  wind  howled 
around  the  corners.  There  was  a  chill  in  the  air.  Wes- 
ton  went  to  the  stove  and  found  that  the  fire  was  out. 
Of  the  supply  of  wood,  only  a  few  sticks  remained,  and 
these  he  thought  best  to  save  for  the  morning.  The  girl 
was  sleeping  peacefully,  and  he  stopped  for  a  moment 
to  look  upon  the  soft  beauty  of  her  face,  resting  con- 
tentedly upon  her  hand.  Then,  with  a  guilty  feeling  that 
he  was  committing  a  sacrilege,  he  turned  away,  and, 
taking  one  of  the  comforters,  spread  it  gently  over  her.1 
Wrapped  in  the  other  quilt,  he  tipped  back  in  the  rocker, 
put  his  feet  on  another  chair,  and,  having  arranged  him- 
self in  the  most  comfortable  manner  possible,  he  turned 
down  the  lamp  and  was  soon  asleep. 

In  spite  of  his  cramped  position,  he  slept  soundly. 
The  strenuous  exertions  of  the  past  day,  without  rest, 
and  without  sufficient  food,  had  produced  an  exhaustion 
which  made  him  insensible  to  discomfort,  so  that  it  was 
not  until  morning  that  he  again  opened  his  eyes. 

He  was  greeted  by  a  blaze  of  sunlight  pouring  in  at 
the  window.  Thoroughly  awake,  he  looked  at  his  watch, 
and  discovered  that  it  was  after  five  o'clock,  but  when 
he  rose  he  found,  to  his  surprise,  that  he  was  alone  in 
the  cabin ;  his  companion  was  gone. 

For  a  moment  he  wondered  if  it  had  all  been  a  dream 
—  the  storm,  the  wreck,  the  rescue  of  the  girl  —  and 
then  his  doubts  were  dispelled.  The  door  opened  softly, 
and  she  stood  before  him,  brilliant  in  the  bright  light  of 


68  THE  STAKE 

the  sun,  her  cheeks  glowing  from  the  fresh  morning  air, 
and  with  a  reassuring  smile,  she  greeted  him. 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Weston !  I  hope  I  didn't  disturb 
you.  I've  been  enjoying  my  first  experience  of  sunrise. 
Oh,  it's  a  glorious  day !  The  wind  has  gone  down,  and, 
best  of  all,  I've  seen  a  sail." 

"  That's  good  news,"  replied  Weston  enthusiastically. 
"  Come,  and  show  it  to  me." 

As  they  went  out  together,  he  added : 

"  To  think  that  I  should  oversleep,  and  let  you  get 
ahead  of  me  in  this  way !  " 

"  It's  the  first  time  on  record  that  I  ever  got  ahead 
of  any  one  by  early  rising,"  she  replied  with  a  laugh. 
"  See,  there  is  the  sail  I  spoke  of." 

"  But  that's  not  from  Atherton's,  I'm  sorry  to  say," 
exclaimed  Weston,  looking  in  the  direction  towards 
which  she  was  pointing. 

"  Can't  we  signal  to  them  ?  " 

"  Not  unless  they  come  nearer.  I  don't  understand 
how  they  come  to  be  where  they  are.  The  sea  is  still 
too  high  to  venture  out  from  the  shore.  They  must 
have  found  some  anchorage  among  the  islands,  or  have 
weathered  the  storm.  I'm  afraid  they're  not  likely  to 
come  here." 

There  was  a  shade  of  disappointment  in  her  voice  as 
she  said : 

"  So  all  my  hopes  were  vain." 

Weston  stood  watching  the  distant  vessel,  as  she 
forced  her  way  through  the  heavy  seas. 

"  My  friends  at  Atherton's  will  not  be  able  to  come 
out  of  the  harbor  until  late  in  the  day,  and  I'm  afraid 


THE  STAKE  69 

they  couldn't  get  here  before  night.  You  see  they  may 
expect  me  to  come  back  in  the  dory,  without  realizing 
that  my  boat  is  damaged." 

"  Were  you  able  to  fix  the  boat  ?  " 

"  Yes,  after  a  fashion." 

"Then  we  can  get  to  shore  sometime  to-day,  can't 
we?" 

"  I'm  afraid  to  risk  it  in  this  sea.  The  only  thing  for 
•us  to  do,  is  to  wait  until  some  one  comes  for  us,  or 
else  — " 

He  paused,  and  watched  intently  the  vessel  which,  on 
a  new  tack,  seemed  to  be  coming  nearer  the  island. 

"  Or  else  — "  repeated  the  girl,  her  eyes  fixed  on  his 
face,  waiting  for  him  to  complete  the  sentence.  "  Is 
there  any  other  way  of  escape  ?  " 

"  I  was  thinking,"  he  said,  with  some  hesitation  in  his 
words,  "  I  was  thinking  that  we  might  try  —  that  is  — 
if  I  could  rig  up  a  mast  —  we  might  get  out  into  the 
course  of  that  schooner.  But  it's  a  dangerous  experi- 
ment, and  I  don't  like  to  try  it." 

"  Is  it  because  of  me  that  you  are  afraid?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  I  might  take  the  chance,  myself,  but  — " 

"  It's  too  dangerous  for  me,  you  mean  ?  But  you've 
no  objections  if  I  take  the  risk  upon  my  own  shoul- 
ders?" 

"  If  we  wait  patiently,"  he  said,  disregarding  her 
question,  "  some  one  is  sure  to  come  for  us  either  this 
afternoon,  or  at  farthest,  to-morrow  morning." 

"  But  how  can  a  woman  be  patient  under  such  cir- 
cumstances? It's  awfully  inconvenient,  to  say  the  least. 
I  simply  can't  stay  here,  with  only  these  clothes." 


70  THE  STAKE 

"  See !  "  she  cried.  "  The  vessel  is  certainly  coming 
nearer." 

"  She  is  beating  her  way  out  to  sea,"  said  Weston. 

"  Isn't  it  possible  to  signal  to  her  ?  "  the  girl  queried 
anxiously. 

"  Yes,  but  I  doubt  if  they  would  risk  running  in  here. 
They  might  send  a  boat,  but  — " 

"The  surest  way  is  for  us  to  go  out  to  them,  isn't 
it  ?  "  she  interrupted. 

"Yes,  but- 

"  Then  let's  try  it.  I  can  stand  anything  but  this 
inaction.  Please  don't  shake  your  head.  I  know  there 
is  danger,  but  I'm  ready  to  take  the  risk.  You  won't  be 
outdone  in  courage  by  a  woman,  will  you  ?  "  she  asked 
impetuously. 

He  smiled  at  her  eagerness,  and  almost  reckless  de- 
termination. 

"  It  will  take  the  schooner  an  hour  against  this  wind, 
to  come  abreast  of  us,"  said  he.  "  We  have  plenty 
of  time  to  think  it  over.  Let's  see  if  we  can  find 
something  to  eat." 

He  turned  towards  the  house,  and  she  walked  in 
silence  at  his  side.  His  stubbornness  annoyed  her. 
He  seemed  absolutely  indifferent  to  her  wishes. 
Woman-like,  she  planned  her  next  attack,  determined 
to  win  his  consent. 

It  took  but  a  few  minutes  to  breakfast  upon  a  few 
remaining  scraps  of  food,  she,  moody  and  absent- 
minded,  he,  troubled  and  uncertain  as  to  what  he  should 
do.  He  knew  that  she  was  determined  to  persuade 
him  to  take  her  in  the  dory,  and  make  the  attempt  to 


THE  STAKE  71 

reach  the  schooner,  but  he  was  not  prepared  for  the 
method  by  which  she  proceeded  to  enforce  her  wishes. 

"  Mr.  Weston,"  she  said  frigidly.  "  Must  I  ask  you 
again  to  take  the  only  means  in  your  power  to  put  me 
ashore,  so  that  I  can  get  home?  If  you  refuse,  I  can 
only  think  that  you  do  not  wish  to  please  me;  —  that 
you  wish  to  keep  me  here,  knowing  that  I  must  submit 
because  I  am  at  your  mercy.  I  am  grateful  to  you 
for  rescuing  me ;  don't  turn  my  gratitude  into  a  feeling 
of  suspicion  and  aversion.  It's  a  trying  and  em- 
barrassing situation  for  a  lady  to  be  in.  Surely  you 
recognize  that,  and  will  do  what  you  can  to  relieve 
me." 

She  paused,  with  a  little  gasp.  She  had  said  more 
than  she  had  intended.  The  look  in  her  companion's 
face  warned  her  that  her  words  had  pained  and  sur- 
prised him.  Without  replying  to  her  outburst,  he 
began  moving  about  the  room,  putting  things  in  order, 
while  she  watched  him  in  silence.  At  last  he  took 
the  oil-skin  coat  from  its  hook  and,  throwing  it  over 
his  arm,  he  said  quietly : 

"  Come,  we  will  go  now." 

"  Are  you  going  out  in  the  boat  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes." 

"  I  suppose  you  think  I  am  foolish  to  ask  this,"  she 
inquired,  waveringly. 

"  Not  at  all,"  he  replied.  "  I'm  only  sorry  that  I 
couldn't  have  made  it  pleasanter  for  you  here." 

"Is  it  really  so  very  dangerous  —  to  go  out  in  the 
boat?" 

"  There  is  danger,"  he  said  gravely.    "  But  I  be- 


72  THE  STAKE 

lieve  I  can  manage  it.  If  we  could  be  sure  of  the  boat 
from  Atherton's  some  time  to-day,  I  would  rather 
have  waited;  but  they  may  not  venture  out  until  to- 
morrow. Come,  we  must  not  delay  any  longer." 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  coasting  schooner,  Mary  Boyle,  fought  her 
way  through  strange  waters,  beating  against  a 
head  wind,  and  slowly  working  out  to  sea,  to  regain 
the  course  from  which  she  had  been  driven  by  a  gale 
of  the  past  two  days. 

Her  master,  Captain  Jonas  Appleby,  a  sailor  of 
thirty  years'  experience,  had  been  heard  to  say  that, 
with  plenty  of  water  under  his  keel,  he  cared  not  for 
wind  or  wave,  but  that  a  lee  shore  and  a  sunken  reef 
gave  him  as  much  uneasiness  as  riding  on  a  railroad 
train.  Bound  for  Boston  with  a  cargo  of  lumber, 
he  had  been  caught  in  the  very  worst  of  the  storm, 
and,  at  dawn,  had  found  himself  in  among  the  islands 
and  rocks,  only  a  mile  off  shore.  That  he  had  es- 
caped shipwreck,  was  nothing  short  of  a  miracle.  All 
that  day  and  the  following  night  he  had  tried  to  get 
out  into  the  open  water,  working  his  way  cautiously 
with  shortened  sail,  and  a  sharp  lookout. 

On  this  second  morning  after  a  sleepless  night,  he 
stood  on  his  deck,  looking  at  the  sea  and  the  sky,  with 
an  expression  of  relief  on  his  weather-beaten  face. 

"Guess  we're  through  th'  wust  of  it,  Bill,"  he 
shouted  to  his  mate,  standing  at  his  side.  "  We  must 
ha'  druv  in  about  fifteen  mile.  Was  ye  ever  in  here 
afore,  Bill?" 


74  THE  STAKE 

"No,  sir!"  was  the  response,  in  gruff,  throaty 
tones. 

"Nor  I  neither.  Head  'er  off  a  couple  o'  p'ints, 
Pete.  Say,  Bill!  What's  that  island  yonder?" 

"  Donno,  sir." 

"  We  must  ha'  blowed  right  through  here,  the  other 
night,  Bill." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"That  must  ha'  been  where  we  heard  th'  breakers 
off  on  th'  port  quarter,  when  that  steamer  was  a-whis- 
tlin'." 

"  Like's  not,  sir." 

"  Waal,  I've  been  sailin'  fer  nigh  thirty  year,  an'  I 
say  this  'ere  was  th'  tightest  squeak  I  ever  hed,  by 
Godfrey.  Dark's  a  Guinea  nigger,  an'  th'  wind 
a-blowin'  forty  knots — .  How  in  Sam  Hill  we  ever 
skinned  through  beats  me.  What's  that  ye  say, 
Mose  ?  "  he  bawled  in  the  teeth  of  the  wind. 

"Boat  adrift  off  to  sta'b'rd,"  shouted  the  lookout. 

The  captain  raised  his  glass,  and  searched  the  roll- 
ing, tumbling  waters. 

"He's  right,  Bill,"  he  said.  "They  is  a  boat  out 
there,  sure's  yer  alive.  An'  a  couple  o'  fellers  in  her. 
Waal,  what  d'ye  think  o' that?  Take  a  look,  Bill."  ' 

He  handed  the  glass  to  his  companion,  who  squirted 
a  stream  of  tobacco  juice  to  leeward,  wiped  his  mouth 
with  the  back  of  his  hand,  as  if  about  to  take  a  drink, 
and  then  carefully  adjusted  the  glass  to  his  eye. 

"Waal,  what  d'ye  make  of  it?"  said  the  captain, 
after  a  silent  inspection  on  the  part  of  the  mate. 

"  She's  adrift." 


THE  STAKE  75 

"  O'  course  she's  adrift ;  but  what's  she  doin'  out 
there?" 

"  Nothirr ! " 

"  Which  way's  she  makin'  ?  " 

"  She's  driftin'." 

"  Say,  Bill,  you're  bright     Gi'  me  th'  glass." 

He  took  another  long  look. 

"  Them  fellers  is  in  trouble.  One  o'  'em's  all  curled 
up  in  the  starn  sheets,  an'  th'  other's  bailin'  out.  They 
don't  seem  to  have  no  mast  nor  oars.  See  he's  stan'in' 
up,  an'  wavin'  snnthin'.  He  wants  help.  Poor  cuss. 
I  don't  believe  we  can  git  to  him  fer  an  hour  or  more, 
an'  when  we  do,  th'  Lord  knows  how  we'll  ever  git 
'longside  of  him." 

"  Ther's  th'  yawl,"  suggested  Bill. 

Captain  Jonas  removed  the  glass,  and  eyed  his  mate 
for  a  moment  in  silence. 

"  Bill  Jenkins,"  said  he,  "  ye  don't  know  much  t' 
speak  of,  but  ye  hev  ideas.  Do  ye  want  t'  try  fer  it 
on  th'  nex'  tack  ?  " 

"  Jes'  's  soon." 

"  I  s'pose  I  c'd  take  th'  wheel,  an'  let  ye  hev  Pete. 
But  I  warn  ye  'tain't  no  easy  job." 

Bill's  sole  reply  was  a  grunt,  as  he  went  to  the 
yawl  and  prepared  to  swing  it  out  over  the  rail. 

"  Lend  a  hand  here,  Ned,"  he  shouted  to  a  young 
sailor.  "  Me  an'  you  an'  Pete's  goin'  out  thar  arter 
them  fellers." 

In  imminent  danger  of  capsizing,  the  boat  was  at  last 
lowered,  and  with  its  crew  of  three,  was  cast  loose  at 
an  opportune  moment.  The  schooner  heeled  over  to 


76  THE  STAKE 

port  on  a  fresli  tack,  and  as  she  shot  away  from  the 
yawl,  bobbing  like  a  cork  on  the  top  of  a  wave,  Captain 
Jonas  shouted : 

"  Make  straight  fer  'em,  Bill.  They're  li'ble  to  git 
ketched  most  any  minute." 

Bill's  answer  was  lost  in  the  rush  of  the  wind  which 
still  blew  with  considerable  force,  and  the  captain,  with 
a  parting  wave  of  his  hand,  turned  his  attention  to  his 
course. 

Meanwhile,  with  a  long  deep  stroke,  the  two  seamen 
pulled  in  the  direction  of  the  castaways,  whose  craft 
appeared  and  disappeared  as  it  rose  and  fell  in  the 
roll  of  the  waves.  Young  Ned,  holding  fast  to  the 
tiller,  peered  forward  with  straining  eyes,  and  from 
time  to  time  imparted  to  his  companions  the  condition 
of  the  distant  boat  and  the  chances  of  rescue. 

"  Say,  that  feller  ain't  no  fool.  He's  got  'nough  sail 
t'  keep  her  head  up,  an'  she's  ridin'  reg'lar." 

"  Watch  out,  ye  lubber,"  cried  Bill,  as  a  comber 
drenched  him  from  head  to  foot.  "  Keep  yer  own  head 
up,  an'  don't  try  quarterin'  this  'ere  sea." 

"  Now  he's  bailin'  ag'in,"  continued  Ned,  bringing 
the  yawl  around.  "  Gosh,  but  he  got  that  wave  right 
over  his  beam.  They're  gone.  No,  there  they  be. 
Knocked  th'  feller  down,  but  he's  up  an'  bailin'  ag'in. 
Why  in  thunder  don't  the  other  one  steer  ?  " 

"  Here,  thar !  Steer,  yerself,  will  ye !  "  shouted  Bill. 
"  Ye'll  hev  us  swamped  in  a  minute.  Yew  jes'  tend 
t'  yer  work,  an'  keep  us  head  on  t'  these  'ere  waves." 

"  It's  more  than  any  one  man  can  do,  to  tend  sail, 
an'  steer,  an'  bail  out  at  th'  same  time.  There  they 


THE  STAKE  77 

go  ag'in.  Gee,  that  must  ha'  finished  'em.  It's  no 
use,  Mates.  They're  gone. —  No,  there  they  be  ag'in." 

"  Oh,  shut  yer  jaw,"  said  Pete,  with  an  oath. 
"  Prognosticatin'  don't  do  no  good." 

And  now  a  faint  cry  came  to  them  from  over  the 
water,  and  Ned  gave  an  answering  shout. 

"Thet's  more  use'n  talkin',"  said  Bill.  "Holler 
ag'in,  an'  kind  o'  hearten  'em  up." 

He  took  a  quick  glance  over  his  shoulder,  and 
gripped  his  oar  tighter. 

"  Let's  give  her  some  more  hickory,  Pete,"  he  said, 
and  the  yawl  leaped  in  response  to  the  force  of  their 
straining  muscles. 

"  Help !  Help !  "  came  a  voice  from  the  boat,  now 
only  two  hundred  yards  away. 

"  Hoi'  fast !  We're  comin' !  "  shouted  Bill  hoarsely, 
over  his  shoulder.  "  Now,  give  it  to  her,  Pete." 

A  few  minutes  more  and  they  were  within  hailing 
distance.  The  dory  was  rolling  heavily  and  seemed 
half  full  of  water.  The  man  who  had  been  bailing, 
was  now  holding  the  tiller,  and  trying  to  bring  the  boat 
out  of  the  trough  of  the  sea,  meanwhile  endeavoring  to 
rouse  his  companion  who  seemed  insensible. 

"  Don't  try  to  run  alongside  of  her,  Ned,"  cried  Bill. 
"  Ye'll  swamp  her,  sure.  We've  got  to  work  in  easy." 

"  Hurry !  "  shouted  Weston.    "  We're  sinking !  " 

"  All  right,  Mate !    We'll  save  ye." 

In  spite  of  their  precaution,  the  two  boats  crashed 
together,  demolishing  the  side  of  the  ill-fated  dory, 
which  slowly  sank;  but  not  before  Weston  had  lifted 
his  companion  into  the  yawl,  and  thrown  himself  across 


78  THE  STAKE 

the  gunwale,  where  he  hung,  half  in  the  water  and 
half  out,  until  he  was  dragged  to  safety  by  Bill,  who 
coolly  remarked,  as  he  caught  the  stroke : 

"  Close  call  ye  had,  Mate." 

Then  looking  at  the  insensible  form  lying  in  the  bot- 
tom of  the  boat,  he  asked : 

"  What  ails  yer  pardner?  " 

"  It's  a  lady,"  panted  Weston,  almost  exhausted  by 
his  struggles. 

"  Lady !  ,Ye  don't  say  it's  a  woman  ye  hed  with 
ye?" 

"  That's  wot  it  is,"  said  Pete,  solemnly,  while  Ned, 
furtively  ejecting  a  quid  of  tobacco  from  his  cheek, 
stared  curiously  at  the  girl  lying  at  his  feet,  closely 
wrapped  in  the  oil-skin  coat. 

"Wot  ye  doin',  Ned?"  cried  Bill.  "Tend  t'  yer 
steerin'.  We've  got  t'  git  around  and  make  fer  th' 
ship.  Do  ye  see  her  anyw'eres?" 

Meanwhile  Weston  was  bending  over  the  inanimate 
form  of  his  companion. 

"Miss  Ellsworth!  Miss  Ellsworth!"  he  cried. 
"  Rouse  yourself !  We  are  saved." 

Her  head  was  on  his  arm,  and  her  white  face  turned 
towards  him. 

"  Do  you  understand  me  ? "  he  said.  "  We  are 
saved." 

She  smiled  faintly,  half  conscious  of  his  words. 

"  I'm  glad,"  she  whispered. 

Weston  drew  the  coat  close  about  her,  and,  holding 
her  in  his  arms,  with  her  head  resting  against  his 
shoulder,  sat  in  silence  looking  out  over  the  sea,  try- 


THE  STAKE  79 

ing  to  steady  his  nerves.  Indifferent  to  his  own  dis- 
comfort, he  was  happy  in  the  thought  that  her  life  had 
been  saved  from  peril,  which  at  one  time  seemed 
hopeless.  More  than  once  in  that  horrible  hour 
through  which  they  had  just  passed,  had  he  bitterly 
cursed  the  folly  which  prompted  him  to  venture  the 
life  of  this  helpless  girl,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  her 
insistence  had  driven  him  to  it.  When  his  improvised 
mast  had  gone  overboard,  carrying  the  sail  with  it, 
and  the  dory  had  been  thrown  into  the  trough  of  the 
sea;  when  the  first  great  wave  had  swept  over  them, 
leaving  them  gasping  for  breath,  with  their  boat  half 
filled  with  water,  his  first  thought  had  been  for  her 
safety.  And  she,  with  the  courage  of  despair  and 
fear,  had  tried  to  follow  his  instructions,  clinging  to 
the  tiller,  while  he  tried  to  clear  away  the  wreckage, 
and  bail  out  the  sinking  boat.  With  a  single  oar  he 
had  been  able  to  bring  his  battered  craft  before  the 
wind,  and  hold  it  there  for  a  moment,  only  to  be  swept 
back  again  whenever  he  dropped  the  oar  to  resume  his 
bailing.  With  each  successive  failure  came  those  ter- 
rible torrents,  as  wave  after  wave  struck  broadside, 
and  deluged  them.  Then  came  the  moment  when  he 
realized  that  his  companion  no  longer  heard  his  words, 
—  that  she  was  unconscious.  Lashing  her  to  one  of 
the  thwarts,  he  rigged  up  a  small  spare-sail,  which  had 
been  saved  from  the  wreck,  using  the  broken  oar  for 
a  mast.  With  the  aid  of  this,  he  managed  to  keep  the 
dory  headed  bow  on,  using  every  moment  between 
waves  to  bail  out,  and  persevering  with  desperate 
efforts  in  the  forlorn  hope  of  ultimate  rescue.  When, 


80  THE  STAKE 

at  last,  he  had  caught  sight  of  the  approaching  yawl, 
his  heart  leaped  with  new  courage,  and  he  tried  to 
rouse  his  companion  with  assurances  of  rescue  near 
at  hand.  With  the  water  gaining  on  him  at  each 
moment,  with  the  dory  trembling  under  each  succes- 
sive blow  of  the  waves,  he  watched  anxiously  the  ap- 
proaching boat,  calculating  the  chance  of  remaining 
afloat  until  it  should  reach  them. 

It  was  like  a  horrible  dream.  He  shuddered  as  he 
thought  of  it. 

Upon  poor  Ned,  the  effect  of  a  lady's  presence  was 
so  disconcerting  that  he  found  it  difficult  to  keep  his 
attention  fixed  upon  his  duties,  with  the  result  that 
more  than  once  a  quartering  wave  drenched  the  oc- 
cupants of  the  yawl,  and  brought  forth  sundry  growls 
and  muttered  oaths  from  Bill  and  Pete. 

At  last  the  schooner  was  reached,  the  difficult  task 
of  getting  aboard  was  successfully  accomplished,  and 
Weston,  still  holding  Miss  Ellsworth  in  his  arms,  found 
himself  safely  landed  on  the  deck  of  the  Mary  Boyle, 
where  he  received  a  hearty  welcome  from  Captain 
Appleby. 

"  Waal,  my  lad,  ye  were  in  a  fair  way  t'  Davy 
Jones'  locker.  What'n  thunder  were  ye  doin*  out  there 
in  this  weather?" 

"It's  a  long  story,  Captain,"  said  Weston.  "I'll 
tell  you  all  about  it  by  and  by.  First,  let  me  attend 
to  this  young  lady.  Where  can  I  take  her  ?  " 

"  She's  welcome  to  my  cabin.  It's  th'  best  we've 
got.  See  here,  my  lad!  You're  about  used  up.  Let 
me  take  th'  girl.  You  follow  me." 


THE  STAKE  81 

Lifting  the  half-conscious  form  in  his  arms,  the  cap- 
tain went  down  the  companion-way,  Weston  following 
with  shaky  steps,  still  anxious  for  the  girl's  safety,  but 
dazed  by  the  reaction  from  his  peril  and  exposure. 

"  Ye  both  need  a  drop  o'  sperrits,"  said  Captain 
Appleby,  as  he  gently  laid  the  girl  down  upon  his 
bunk.  "  She'll  come  to  all  right,  my  lad,"  he  added 
reassuringly  to  Weston,  who  bent  over  her,  anxiously 
watching  her  face,  and  rubbing  her  hands. 

"  Miss  Ellsworth !  "  cried  Weston.  "  Don't  you  hear 
me?  We  are  safe." 

At  the  sound  of  his  voice,  she  slowly  opened  her 
eyes,  smiled  faintly,  and  whispered : 

"  Thank  —  you  —  Mr.  —  Crusoe." 

"  Here,  give  her  some  o'  this,"  said  Captain  Ap- 
pleby, handing  Weston  a  tumbler  filled  to  the  brim 
with  brandy.  "  Poor  lass,  she's  cold  an'  wet.  I  wish 
my  wife  was  here.  Susan  'ud  know  what  t'  do.  How 
does  that  taste,  Miss?  Eh?  Makes  ye  cough,  does 
it?  Waal,  it's  jest  th'  thing  to  offset  salt  water  in  yer 
stummick." 

"  I'm  better  now,  thank  you,"  she  said  feebly. 

"  She's  better  now,  thank  ye,"  cried  the  captain, 
slapping  Weston  on  the  shoulder.  "  Here,  Mate,  take 
some  o'  this  yerself.  Ye  look  kind  o'  white  aroun'  th' 
gills." 

Weston  swallowed  some  of  the  fiery  liquid.  It 
burned  and  strangled  him,  but  he  felt  the  invigorating 
effect  of  it  at  once. 

"  She  needs  dry  clothing,  Captain,"  he  said,  handing 
back  the  half-filled  tumbler.  "  Can  you  help  us  out?  " 


82  THE  STAKE 

The  captain  eyed  the  brandy  meditatively,  and  then 
solemnly  emptied  the  contents  of  the  tumbler  down 
his  throat.  Good  liquor  was  not  to  be  wasted. 

"  This  is  purty  rough  quarters  fer  ye,  Miss,  an'  no 
other  woman  aboard.  But  ye  c'n  count  on  Jonas 
Appleby,  an'  the  Mary  Boyle  t'  carry  ye  safe  t'  land. 
Th'  victuals  ain't  fancy,  but  they're  wholesome,  an'  this 
cabin's  your'n  while  you're  aboard.  But,  speakin'  o' 
clothes  —  why,  they  ain't  no  clothes  —  that  is  to 
say—" 

"  I  understand,"  said  Miss  Ellsworth,  with  a  smile 
and  a  faint  flush.  "  I  believe  I  am  able  to  take  care  of 
myself,  now,  thank  you." 

Her  voice  was  still  weak,  but  there  were  signs  of 
returning  strength,  and  Weston  with  a  sigh  of  relief, 
turned  away  and  went  into  the  main  cabin,  followed 
by  the  captain,  who  softly  closed  the  door. 
.  /'An'  now,  young  feller,  it's  your  turn,"  said  the 
latter,  crossing  over  to  Weston  who  had  dropped  into 
a  chair.  "We  ain't  so  bad  off  fer  men's  togs,  an'  if 
ye  ain't  squeamish,  ye  c'n  git  into  a  dry  shirt  an'  a 
pair  o'  trousers  o'  Bill's.  I  ain't  sayin'  they're  clean, 
but  they're  dry.  Come  on!  'Tain't  no  time  fer 
talkin'  now.  iYe  c'n  tell  yer  story  by  an'  by.  I  know 
how  ye  feel.  Been  shipwrecked  twicet  myself.  An' 
hungry  'nough  t'  eat  rope.  Say,  you  an'  th'  girl  mus' 
be  hungry.  I'll  git  ol'  Sambo  t'  cook  ye  some  tea  an' 
muffins.  This  'ere's  Bill's  hole.  Git  in  there  an'  make 
yerself  t'  hum." 

It  was  long  after  noon,  when  Weston  was  awakened 
from  the  sleep  of  exhaustion  into  which  he  had  fallen, 


THE  STAKE  83 

when,  relieved  of  his  wet  clothing,  and  rolled  in  a 
warm  blanket,  he  had  thrown  himself  on  Bill's  bunk, 
utterly  oblivious,  to  the  odors  of  stale  tobacco,  tar,  and 
other  delectable  smells  which  filled  the  private  apart- 
ment of  the  first  mate  of  the  Mary  Boyle.  A  hand 
upon  his  shoulder  was  shaking  him  violently,  and  a 
rough  voice  was  saying: 

"  Here,  wake  up,  my  lad !  You've  slep'  long 
enough.  You  need  victuals,  you  do.  Ol'  Sambo's 
been  keepin'  a  plate  o'  pork  an'  taters  warm  fer  ye, 
an'  it's  high  time  ye  was  eatin'  'em.  Wake  up !  We're 
out  in  th'  open,  an'  plain  sailin'  ahead.  Th'  young 
miss  is  askin'  fer  ye,  too.  Oh,  ho!  That  set  ye 
thinkin',  did  it?  Sambo's  got  yer  clothes  all  dried  fer 
ye,  an'  th'  young  lady's,  too." 

Captain  Appleby  went  out  into  the  cabin,  chuckling 
to  himself,  and  Weston,  rolling  out  of  the  bunk,  fol- 
lowed him  in  a  few  moments,  dressed  and  fully  awake. 
On  the  table  was  food,  and  he  suddenly  realized  how 
hungry  he  was. 

"  Set  down  an'  eat.  Ye  look  like  a  half -starved 
wolf,"  cried  the  captain,  standing  with  hands  on  hips, 
and  watching  him  good-naturedly.  "  Yes,  th'  young 
lady's  hed  her  dinner.  Don't  worry  about  her.  She's 
as  fine  as  a  fiddle.  Never  mind  talkin'  now.  Wait 
'til  yer  stummick's  full.  I  know  yer  much  obliged. 
Don't  need  t'  tell  me  that.  Here  comes  Sambo  with  th' 
meat  an'  taters.  Help  yerself.  I'm  goin'  up  on  deck, 
now.  When  ye  git  through,  ye  c'n  j'ine  me." 

Left  alone  in  the  cabin,  Weston  gave  no  thought  to 
his  surroundings.  The  one  essential  thing  was  food, 


84  THE  STAKE 

and  before  him  was  food  in  abundance,  rough  fare  to 
be  sure,  but  all-sufficient  for  a  half-starved  man.  He 
was  so  ravenously  occupied  that  he  failed  to  notice 
Miss  Ellsworth,  as  she  entered  and  stood  silently  watch- 
ing him.  When  at  last  he  raised  his  eyes  to  hers, 
drawn  by  some  subtle  intimation  that  he  was  observed, 
he  sat  for  a  moment  in  silence,  content  with  the  re- 
assurance that  she  was  alive  and  well.  It  was  the  girl 
who  first  broke  the  silence. 

"  The  captain  told  me  not  to  disturb  you  until  you 
had  time  to  eat,"  she  said,  smiling. 

"  I  didn't  hear  you  come  in,"  he  replied.  "  How  long 
have  you  been  a  witness  of  my  outrageous  appetite?  " 

"  Only  for  a  few  minutes.  I  didn't  dare  to  speak, 
for  I've  always  heard  that  it's  dangerous  to  talk  to 
a  starving  man." 

She  came  to  the  table  and  sat  down  opposite  him. 

"  I  have  finished  now,"  he  said.  "  Tell  me  if  you 
have  recovered  from  —  from  this  morning.  I  can 
never  forgive  myself  for  taking  the  risk  I  did.  It's 
a  miracle  that  we  are  alive." 

"  It  was  all  my  fault,"  she  replied  with  a  slight 
tremor  in  her  voice.  "  When  those  horrible  waves 
poured  over  us,  I  thought  we  were  going  to  be  drowned, 
and  that  it  was  I  who  would  be  the  cause  of  your 
death.  And  you  were  so  tireless,  so  —  so  —  kind, — 
I—" 

She  hesitated,  and  tears  came  into  her  eyes.  Per- 
haps she  realized  the  effect  of  her  words,  for  suddenly 
she  raised  her  eyes  to  him,  and  smiling  through  her 
tears,  said: 


THE  STAKE  85 

"And  even  now,  I  am  dependent  upon  your  gen- 
erosity. I  have  no  money,  and  am  nearly  as  helpless 
as  when  you  rescued  me  the  first  time,  Mr. —  Crusoe." 

The  words,  spoken  almost  jestingly,  carried  a  mes- 
sage which  Weston  could  not  fail  to  understand. 
There  must  be  no  display  of  sentiment  on  his  part. 
She  was  under  his  protection,  and  relied  upon  him  to 
spare  her  any  embarrassment.  Whatever  his  feelings 
might  be,  for  the  present,  at  least,  he  must  remain — • 
Mr.  Crusoe. 

"  Fortunately  I  have  some  money  with  me,"  he  said. 
"  The  main  question  is  —  when  will  we  get  ashore  ? 
I  must  have  a  talk  with  the  captain." 

As  he  climbed  the  companion-way,  her  eyes  followed 
him  with  a  wistful  expression,  and  when  he  called  back 
to  her :  "  Come  up  on  deck.  It  will  do  you  good  to 
get  out  of  this  stuffy  cabin  into  the  fresh  air,"  she  re- 
plied quickly :  "  Wait  until  I  get  a  wrap  of  some 
kind." 

"  Sweethearts  they  are,  or  I'll  eat  my  shirt,"  mut- 
tered Captain  Appleby  to  his  mate,  as  the  two  refugees 
approached  him,  the  girl  resting  her  hand  on  Weston's 
arm,  with  an  appearance  of  complete  confidence  and 
trust  in  him. 

"  Umph ! "  grunted  Bill,  hastily  shooting  a  quid  of 
tobacco  over  the  rail.  "  Nice  thing  for  us  to  hev 
aboard." 

"  Hold  yer  jaw,  ye  old  bone-yard ! "  growled  the 
captain.  "  Who  brought  'em  aboard  ?  An'  who  was 
it  went  out  to  git  'em  ?  " 

"  Well,   Captain ! "   said  Weston,  as  the  two  came 


86  THE  STAKE 

up  forward.  "  Here  we  are,  and  very  grateful  to  you 
and  the  men  who  went  out  in  the  yawl  to  save  us." 

"  Don't  mention  it,"  said  the  captain,  with  a  wave  of 
his  hand,  as  if  to  indicate  that  the  deed  was  one  of 
daily  occurrence. 

Bill,  with  self-conscious  embarrassment,  shifted 
from  one  foot  to  the  other,  and  examined,  with  minute 
care,  the  rigging  overhead. 

"  Now  that  you've  warmed  us,  and  clothed  us,  and 
fed  us,"  continued  Weston,  "  will  you  tell  us  where  we 
are  bound?  We  should  like  to  get  ashore  as  soon 
as  possible.  This  young  lady  is  very  anxious  to  return 
to  her  parents." 

"  We're  boun'  fer  Boston,  but  I  was  calc'latin'  t' 
run  in  t'  Portland  to-morrer  mornin',  t'  do  a  leetle 
patchin'.  We  got  kind  o'  twisted  an'  torn,  the  other 
night,  an'  I  don't  like  t'  sail  into  port  lookin'  ontidy." 

Weston  turned  to  Miss  Ellsworth. 

"  Then  we  can  reach  Boston  to-morrow  night,"  said 
he.  "  We  can  surely  catch  some  train.  You'll  not 
have  long  to  wait  before  you  are  safe  home  again." 

"  That's  good  news !  "  she  exclaimed  joyfully,  as  they 
turned  and  walked  slowly  along  the  deck. 

"  Don't  act  like  it,"  muttered  Bill,  when  they  were 
out  of  hearing. 

"  Like  what?  "  said  the  captain  sharply. 

"  Sweethearts." 

"  What  do  ye  know  about  sweethearts,  ye  ol' 
granny  ?  " 

"  They  don't  work  reg'lar.  Why  ain't  he  got  his 
arm  'round  her  waist?  " 


THE  STAKE  87 

"Better  go  an'  tell  'em  how,  Bill.  Ye've  hed  so 
much  experience." 

The  conduct  of  the  supposed  lovers  continued  to 
worry  Bill  during  the  rest  of  the  day.  Even  after 
supper,  in  the  calm  which  followed  the  storm,  when 
the  moon  came  out  clear  and  full,  and  Weston  and  his 
companion  sat  side  by  side  looking  out  over  the  spar- 
kling waters,  the  mate  was  hovering  in  the  vicinity, 
watching  for  some  proof  of  the  captain's  assertion. 

"  I  never  see  him  hug  her  oncet,"  he  remarked,  just 
before  turning  in.  "  They  ain't  sweethearts." 


CHAPTER  VII 

IT  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  two  persons  could  go 
through  the  experiences  of  Dick  Weston  and  his 
companion,  and  still  present  an  everyday  appearance. 
It  was  indeed  an  odd-looking  couple  which  stood  on 
the  dock  at  Portland  in  the  bright  light  of  a  sunny 
May  morning.  In  default  of  hairpins  and  combs, 
Miss  Ellsworth  had  twisted  her  hair  in  a  knot  at  the 
top  of  her  head,  and  concealed  it  beneath  a  rough 
sailor-cap,  the  gift  of  her  silent  admirer,  Ned.  Her 
clothing  was  streaked  with  brine  from  its  frequent 
drenchings.  There  was  a  great  rent  in  her  skirt, 
rudely  patched,  and  a  noticeable  absence  of  collar. 
But  in  spite  of  all  this,  her  face  looked  out,  rosy  and 
cheerful,  defiant  of  criticism. 

To  Weston,  she  seemed  the  most  adorable  creature 
in  the  world.  The  charm  of  their  intimacy  grew  upon 
him  each  moment,  and  as  they  walked  up  the  street, 
his  eagerness  to  serve  her  aroused  her  spirit  of  co- 
quetry. 

"  Really,  Mr.  Weston,"  she  said,  "  I  can't  permit  you 
to  buy  a  coat  for  me.  It  would  embarrass  me  terri- 
bly. Indeed,  it's  not  to  be  thought  of." 

"  But  you  will  let  me  lend  you  the  money,  won't 
you?  How  would  it  look  for  you  to  arrive  home  in 
that  old  cap  and  torn  gown  ?  " 


THE  STAKE  69 

"  I'm  sorry  you  are  not  satisfied  with  my  costume," 
she  said,  pretending  to  be  offended.  "Perhaps  you 
are  ashamed  to  be  seen  with  me." 

"Of  course  I'm  not,"  he  hastened  to  assure  her. 
"  But  you  should  at  least  get  a  new  hat." 

"Don't  you  approve  of  this  cap?"  she  inquired 
archly. 

"I  certainly  do,"  replied  Weston  gallantly.  "You 
look  charming  in  it.  As  far  as  I  am  concerned,  I 
wouldn't  have  you  otherwise  than  you  are  —  than  you 
have  been  the  past  three  days." 

"  Now,  Mr.  Crusoe,"  said  she,  blushing  and  trying  to 
maintain  an  air  of  offended  pride.  "  It  isn't  fair  to 
make  fun  of  me.  But  I  agree  with  you  that  the  cap 
will  hardly  do,  so,  if  you  please,  I'll  borrow  enough 
money  to  buy  a  cheap  straw  hat." 

"  Come,  then,"  said  Weston,  pleased  to  have  won 
this  concession.  "  We  must  hurry.  The  train  for 
Boston  leaves  in  an  hour." 

At  the  milliner's  they  spent  half  of  their  time  try- 
ing to  find  a  suitable  hat,  Weston  volunteering  his 
approval  or  disapproval,  all  unconscious  of  the  whis- 
pered comments  of  the  shop-girls,  to  whom  the  strange 
couple  offered  an  opportunity  for  most  romantic  sur- 
mises. "  They  were  a  run-away  couple."  "  No,  they 
had  been  married  for  a  week,  at  least."  **  What  a 
handsome  man  —  a  sailor  evidently."  "  Perhaps 
they  were  only  sweethearts."  "  The  girl  was  a  frump. 
Look  at  her  clothes.  Pretty,  but  no  style  about  her." 

Her  first  reluctance  overcome,  Weston  next  per- 
suaded her  to  buy  a  long  rain-coat,  and  a  pair  of 


9o  THE  STAKE 

gloves.  Arrayed  in  these,  and  her  jaunty  sailor-hat, 
she  declared  herself  able  to  defy  a  host  of  critics.  At 
the  station,  she  had  a  few  minutes  in  which  to  telegraph 
to  her  father,  while  Weston  was  buying  the  tickets. 
Then,  with  no  luggage  to  delay  them,  they  were  soon 
aboard  the  train,  and  bound  for  Boston. 

For  some  time  they  rode  in  silence.  Weston  was 
disturbed  by  the  thought  that  soon  they  would  part, 
with  nothing  to  bring  them  together  again,  or  to  enable 
him  to  continue  their  friendship  upon  a  more  intimate 
basis.  He  felt  that  he  could  not  let  her  go,  without 
some  understanding  as  to  the  future,  and  yet  his  sense 
of  propriety  bade  him  wait  until  she  could  listen  to 
him  freed  from  the  embarrassment  of  her  present  situ- 
ation of  dependence. 

But  if  it  was  a  test  o'f  his  patience,  it  was  also  a 
trying  time  for  the  girl  at  his  side.  Instinctively  she 
realized  the  pent-up  emotion  of  the  man,  and  her  heart 
responded  with  a  feeling  of  regret,  as  she  thought  that 
in  a  short  time  he  would  leave  her  and  she  might  never 
see  him  again.  Not  daring  to  analyze  this  feeling  too 
closely,  she  tried  to  divert  her  mind  by  looking  out  of 
the  window.  The  silence  became  embarrassing.  At 
last  Weston  roused  himself,  and  said : 

"  It  seems  a  long  time  since  breakfast.  Aren't  you 
hungry  ?  " 

"Hungry  as  a  bear,"  she  replied,  with  a  smile  of 
relief. 

"  So  am  I.  What  do  you  say  to  dinner?  There's  a 
dining-car  on  this  train.  It's  one  o'clock.  Let's  have 
one  good  meal  together.  We've  had  plenty  of  poor 


THE  STAKE  91 

ones.  Do  you  mind  dining  with  a  man  in  a  blue  shirt 
and  tarry  jacket?" 

"  Blue  is  my  favorite  color,"  she  replied.  "  And 
as  for  your  costume,  it  isn't  much  worse  than  my  own." 

They  passed  into  the  dining-car,  found  seats  and 
ordered  a  good  dinner. 

"  I'm  getting  deeper  and  deeper  in  your  debt,"  she 
remarked.  "  You  must  figure  it  all  up,  and  I'll  have 
papa  send  you  a  check  for  it." 

"  Shall  I  include  your  board  and  lodging  on  the 
island  ?  "  he  asked  with  a  frown. 

"No,"  she  replied  softly.  "That,  I  owe  to  Mr. 
Crusoe." 

"  Mr.  Crusoe ! "  he  exclaimed,  shrugging  his  shoul- 
ders. "  Mr.  Crusoe  has  served  his  purpose.  "  Isn't  it 
time  to  forget  him  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  replied,  with  a  quick  glance  at  his  face. 
"  I  shall  never  forget  Mr.  Crusoe,  and  the  debt  I  owe 
him." 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  the  train  rolled 
into  the  big  station,  and  the  crowds  of  passengers 
pushed  and  elbowed  their  way  to  the  entrance. 

Miss  Ellsworth,  with  parted  lips,  and  looking  ex- 
pectantly in  all  directions,  hurried  along  the  platform, 
Weston  following  only  a  short  distance  behind  her. 
When  they  neared  the  great  doors,  through  which  came 
the  sharp  cries  of  the  cabmen,  a  porter  loaded  with 
bags  jostled  Weston,  and,  for  a  moment,  blocked  his 
way.  By  the  time  he  had  freed  himself,  Miss  Ellsworth 
was  some  distance  ahead  of  him.  He  saw  her  run 
up  to  a  white-haired  gentleman,  and  throw  her  amis 


92  (THE  STAKE 

around  his  neck.  Then,  as  he  approached  them,  he 
heard  her  say : 

"  Is  mamma  here  ?  " 

"Yes,  there  she  is,"  replied  her  father,  pointing  to 
a  carriage.  "  See,  she  is  looking  for  you." 

"Here  I  am,  dear,"  cried  the  girl,  rushing  to  the 
carriage,  and  throwing  herself  into  her  mother's  arms. 

Weston,  only  a  few  feet  away,  saw  the  gentleman 
follow  his  daughter  into  the  carriage,  saw  the  door 
closed,  and  before  he  realized  what  had  happened,  the 
coachman  had  touched  the  horses  lightly  with  his  whip, 
and  they  were  off. 

The  whole  scene  had  b£en  enacted  within  the  space 
of  a  minute.  At  first  Weston  could  hardly  believe  his 
senses.  Then  came  an  overpowering  feeling  of  lone- 
liness. She  had  left  him  without  a  word  —  she,  for 
whom  he  had  almost  given  his  life.  Into  his  heart 
came  the  bitterness  of  disappointment  and  dejection. 
He  did  not  heed  the  hurrying,  jostling  figures  which 
passed  him.  His  eyes  still  remained  fixed  upon  the 
corner,  around  which  the  carriage  had  disappeared. 
When,  at  last,  he  recovered  his  self-possession,  it  was 
with  a  realization  of  his  strange  appearance,  and  the 
necessity  for  a  change  of  clothing.  He  walked  slowly 
along  the  street  for  several  blocks,  undecided  what  to 
do.  Then,  having  made  up  his  mind  to  go  home  to 
his  boarding-place,  he  stopped  at  a  corner,  and  waited 
for  a  car. 

Absorbed  in  his  own  gloomy  thoughts,  he  did  not 
notice  a  lady  in  deep  mourning,  standing  near  him,  until 
he  heard  a  voice  say : 


THE  STAKE  93 

"Please  don't,  Dicky,  dear!" 

Weston  turned  in  surprise. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said,  and  then  discovered 
that  the  lady  was  a  stranger  to  him,  and  that  her  re- 
mark was  addressed  to  a  little  boy,  who  was  restlessly 
pulling  at  her  hand. 

"  Dicky,"  she  cried.  "  You  are  hurting  mamma. 
We  can't  go  until  Edwards  comes  with  the  carriage." 

"I  want  my  ball,"  complained  the  boy.  "It  rolled 
away." 

"  I  can't  get  it  for  you,  dear,"  replied  the  young 
mother,  patiently.  "  It's  out  in  the  muddy  street. 
Never  mind.  We'll  get  another  to-morrow.  You  can 
wait  until  then." 

"  But  I  want  that  one,"  wailed  the  unappeased 
Dicky. 

Then  suddenly  releasing  his  mother's  hand,  he  darted 
into  the  street.  Weston,  who  had  been  watching  the 
little  scene,  saw  the  child  stoop  to  recover  his  lost 
treasure,  saw  a  carriage  bearing  down  upon  the  boy, 
heard  the  driver  shout  in  alarm,  as  he  tried  to  hold 
in  his  team,  and  then,  without  thought  of  danger  to 
himself,  he  rushed  into  the  street,  seized  the  child 
and  threw  him  to  one  side  in  safety.  The  next  moment 
he  received  a  crashing  blow  upon  his  head,  and  was 
hurled  senseless  to  the  ground. 

A  street  accident  in  a  large  city  acts  like  a  magnet 
upon  the  individual  units  of  the  mass  of  humanity 
which  surges  back  and  forth  along  the  thoroughfare, 
and  so,  in  an  incredibly  short  space  of  time,  a  crowd 
of  curious  spectators  gathered  about  the  prostrate  form 


94  THE  STAKE 

of  the  unfortunate  young  man,  whom  a  policeman  had 
carried  to  the  sidewalk. 

The  banker,  the  merchant,  the  lawyer,  hurrying  by, 
stopped  to  inquire  what  was  the  matter,  and  having 
learned  the  facts,  passed  on,  mentally  consigning  the 
victim  to  one  of  the  hospitals.  The  dainty  lady,  with- 
held for  a  moment  from  her  shopping,  gave  vent  to 
her  transient  sympathy,  by  an  "  Oh,  dear !  what  a  pity," 
wondered  if  the  poor  man  had  a  family,  and  turned 
away.  The  newsboy,  working  his  way  between  the 
legs  of  the  crowd,  took  one  look  at  the  face  covered 
with  blood,  and  the  mud  of  the  street,  said,  "  Gee,  but 
he  got  a  crack !  "  and  wriggled  his  way  out. 

In  the  midst,  the  policeman  was  trying  to  keep  the 
crowd  back,  while  another,  with  club  in  hand,  was 
haranguing  the  driver  of  the  carriage  who,  white-faced 
and  trembling,  still  sat  on  his  box. 

"  Wot's  y er  name,  young  feller  ?  "  shouted  the  offi- 
cer to  the  coachman. 

"  My  name  is  Ellsworth,"  said  a  white-haired  gen- 
tleman, who  had  emerged  from  the  carriage,  and  forced 
his  way  through  the  crowd.  "  This  man  is  my  coach- 
man. What  has  happened?" 

"Why,  sir,"  said  the  officer,  lowering  his  voice,  re- 
spectfully, "yer  man  has  run  down  a  young  feller, 
an'  like  t'  killed  him.  How's  he  comin',  Bob?  any 
signs  o'  life  ?  " 

He  turned  to  the  other  policeman,  who  was  bending 
over  the  unconscious  man. 

"He's  breathin',  but  he  needs  th'  doctor,  quick. 
Send  in  a  call  fer  th'  ambylance." 


THE  STAKE  95 

A  lady,  with  a  little  boy  clinging  fast  to  her  hand, 
was  standing  beside  the  injured  man. 

"  You  can  put  him  in  my  carriage,"  she  said.  "  It 
must  be  here.  I  was  waiting  for  it  on  the  corner, 
when  —  when  —  Oh !  Mr.  Ellsworth,  do  you  sup- 
pose that  he  is  killed  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Carson ! "  exclaimed  the  gentleman,  lifting 
his  hat.  "  You  here !  " 

"  Yes,  I  saw  the  accident.  It  was  all  Dicky's  fault. 
He  ran  out  into  the  street,  and  then  this  man  rushed 
after  him  and  seized  him  from  under  your  horses,  just 
in  time.  In  saving  my  boy,  he  was  knocked  down. 
Oh,  I'm  afraid  he's  killed.  Will  somebody  please  take 
him  to  my  carriage?  There  is  Edwards  now." 

"  But,  Mrs.  Carson,  wouldn't  it  be  better  to  take  him 
to  the  hospital  in  the  ambulance  ?  " 

"  No,  no !  We  mustn't  delay  any  longer.  I  want  to 
take  him  to  Dr.  Stewart's  office.  Oh,  dear,  if  he  should 
die!" 

"  I  hope  it's  not  so  serious,"  said  Mr.  Ellsworth, 
looking  anxiously  at  the  limp  and  apparently  lifeless 
form.  "A  very  unfortunate  accident  —  very  unfortu- 
nate." 

Then  turning  to  his  coachman,  who  was  waiting  just 
beyond  the  crowd,  he  called : 

"  You  may  drive  on  with  the  ladies,  Dobson.  I'll  re- 
main here." 

Ready  and  sympathetic  hands  helped  to  carry  the 
unfortunate  young  man  to  Mrs.  Carson's  landau,  and 
there,  resting  in  the  arms  of  one  of  the  policemen,  with 
Mrs.  Carson  and  Mr.  Ellsworth  on  the  opposite  seat, 


96  THE  STAKE 

and  the  thoroughly  frightened  Dicky  on  the  box,  he 
was  borne  rapidly  away. 

"  Do  you  know  the  man's  name,  Officer?  "  asked  Mr. 
Ellsworth. 

"  No,  sir.     Never  set  eyes  on  him  before." 

"  Make  inquiries,  will  you,  and  let  me  know.  I  sup- 
pose I  must  look  after  his  family  until  he  recovers." 

"  Please  let  me  attend  to  all  that,"  said  Mrs.  Carson, 
turning  to  her  companion.  "  It  was  Dicky's  fault,  and 
it  was  in  saving  his  life  that  the  poor  man  was  injured. 
It's  not  only  my  desire,  but  my  duty  to  see  that  he  has 
the  best  of  care." 

"  Here's  a  name  in  the  young  feller's  cap,"  said  the 
policeman,  holding  out  to  Mrs.  Carson  that  much-used 
and  badly  soiled  article.  "  Can  you  read  it  ?  " 

The  lady  took  the  cap  and  examined  it  carefully. 

"  It  looks  like  '  Bill  Jenkins/  "  she  said ;  then  turned 
doubtfully  to  the  still  face  on  the  policeman's  shoulder. 

Through  the  stains  of  blood  and  dirt,  there  could  be 
seen  the  lineaments  of  refinement  and  good-breeding. 
Her  eyes  strayed  to  the  hands,  which  showed  none  of 
the  marks  of  coarse  labor.  The  man  and  the  name  did 
not  seem  to  fit. 

"Did  I  tell  you?"  suddenly  interrupted  Mr.  Ells- 
worth. "  Did  you  hear  that  Louise  had  returned  safely  ? 
You  know  she  was  out  with  the  Ellisons  in  their  steam 
yacht  during  that  big  storm.  We  were  terribly  wor- 
ried because  we  could  get  no  trace  of  her,  but  we 
didn't  realize  her  danger.  It  seems  the  yacht  was 
wrecked,  and  Louise  was  picked  up  by  a  fisherman,  and 
brought  ashore,  but  she  fears  the  others  were  lost. 


THE  STAKE  97 

There  were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ellison,  and  the  Savages,  and 
a  Mr.  Ballou,  besides  the  crew." 

"  I  saw  something  of  it  in  the  paper  this  morning," 
replied  Mrs.  Carson.  "  But  I  hoped  it  wasn't  as  bad 
as  reported.  Do  you  really  think  they  are  lost?" 

"  Louise  feels  sure  of  it.  I  haven't  had  time  to  talk 
with  her  about  it.  She  came  back  only  half  an  hour 
ago.  We  met  her  at  the  station,  and  had  started  home, 
when  she  insisted  on  going  back  to  speak  to  some  gen- 
tleman who  had  been  attentive  to  her  on  the  train.  I 
didn't  quite  understand  who  it  was.  We  had  just 
turned  back,  when  we  met  with  this  accident.  How 
does  the  poor  fellow  seem  now,  Officer  ?  " 

"  Just  breathin'  like  he  was  asleep.  Acts  as  if  his 
head  was  cracked.  Must  ha'  been  hit  by  the  pole  of  the 
carriage.  Where  are  we  takin'  him  ?  " 

"  To  Dr.  Stewart's  office  in  the  next  block,"  replied 
Mrs.  Carson. 

In  the  doctor's  private  operating-room,  a  few  minutes 
later,  they  all  stood  waiting  for  the  verdict;  Mr.  Ells- 
worth with  a  shade  of  annoyance  upon  his  usually  be- 
nign countenance;  Mrs.  Carson's  sweet  face  showing 
pity  and  anxiety;  Officer  Brennan  calmly  waiting  in 
the  discharge  of  his  duty  to  report  the  facts  at  head- 
quarters ;  and  poor  Dicky,  the  cause  of  it  all,  still  terri- 
bly frightened. 

"  Concussion  of  the  brain,"  said  the  doctor,  carefully 
washing  away  the  blood  and  dirt.  "  There  is  probably 
a  slight  fracture,  and  some  adhesion,  but  I  am  in  hopes 
it  will  not  be  necessary  to  operate.  Where  does  he 
live?" 


98  THE  STAKE 

"We  don't  know,"  said  the  policeman,  briefly  re- 
porting the  facts. 

"I  suppose  the  hospital  is  the  place  for  him,"  said 
Mr.  Ellsworth,  impatient  to  bring  to  a  conclusion  a 
rather  unpleasant  duty. 

"By  all  means.  He  must  have  immediate  care  and 
attention." 

"  Is  it  absolutely  necessary  that  he  go  to  a  hospital, 
Doctor?"  inquired  Mrs.  Carson. 

"  Either  there,  or  to  his  home.  As  you  don't  know 
where  he  lives,  the  hospital  is  the  only  place  for  him." 

"  I  would  like  to  take  him  to  my  own  house,  if  you 
don't  object." 

"  Mrs.  Carson ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Ellsworth,  in  sur- 
prise. "  You  mustn't  think  of  such  a  thing." 

"  Could  it  be  done,  Doctor  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Carson. 

"  It's  not  an  impossible  thing  to  do,"  replied  the  doc- 
tor, hesitatingly.  "  But  surely,  Mrs.  Carson,  you 
don't—" 

"  I  wish  to  do  it,"  she  interrupted,  smiling  sweetly. 
"  It's  the  very  least  I  can  do." 

"  But  he  must  have  the  care  of  nurses,  and  medical 
attendance." 

"  You  will  attend  to  that,"  she  replied,  with  another 
smile. 

"  Well,  I  suppose  — "  began  the  doctor,  yielding 
doubtfully. 

"  Shall  we  take  him  there  now  ? "  she  interrupted* 
"  And  will  you  go  with  us,  Doctor?  You  needn't  worry 
about  it  any  more,  Mr.  Ellsworth.  I  know  you  are  in 
a  hurry  to  return  to  Louise.  Here  is  my  card,  Officer. 


THE  STAKE  99 

This  gentleman  is  to  be  cared  for  at  my  house.  Will 
you  help  us  move  him  to  the  carriage  before  you  go?  " 

It  is  wonderful  what  a  persistent  woman  can  accom- 
plish, especially  if  she  is  pretty  and  graceful,  and,  above 
all  things,  a  young  widow. 

That  evening,  the  desk-sergeant  at  the  central  police- 
station  made  the  following  entry: 

Officer  Brennan,  No.  87,  reports  man  run  down  by  carriage  at 
corner  of and streets,  at  five  P.  M. 

Alan's  name William  Jenkins. 

Residence Unknown. 

Height Five  feet,  eleven  inches. 

Complexion Medium. 

Hair Dark. 

Face Smooth. 

Wore   old   sailor-cap,   blue   flannel   shirt,   and   sailor's 

jacket. 
Taken  to  the  house  of  Mrs.  Arthur  Carson,  widow, 

No.  —  Newberry  St. 

Attending  surgeon.  .Dr.  Alexander  Stewart. 
Owner  of  carriage. . .  Hon.  James  Ellsworth. 
Driver  of  carriage..  .Thomas  Dobson. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  Honorable  James  Ellsworth,  State  Senator, 
Chairman  of  the  Board  of  Charities,  director  in 
two  banks,  and  representative  of  a  distinguished  family, 
sat  alone  in  his  library,  reading  the  evening  paper. 
The  room  was  luxuriously  and  tastefully  furnished  with 
every  provision  for  comfort  which  the  wealth  of  its 
owner  could  supply,  and  yet,  in  the  midst  of  these 
pleasant  surroundings,  with  the  memory  of  a  delightful 
dinner,  just  eaten,  and  the  fragrance  of  a  good  cigar, 
just  lighted,  Senator  Ellsworth  appeared  to  be  ill  at 
ease.  A  deep  frown  wrinkled  his  forehead,  his  face 
wore  a  troubled  expression,  and  once  or  twice  he  ut- 
tered an  exclamation  of  disgust  or  anger. 

The  page  which  seemed  to  cause  all  this  disturbance 
in  his  usually  calm  and  impassive  nature,  was  the  daily 
market  report,  and  the  particular  column  which  irri- 
tated him  most  was  that  devoted  to  an  account  of  the 
fluctuations  of  copper  stocks.  From  time  to  time  he 
jotted  down  notes  in  a  memorandum-book,  made  com- 
parisons with  previous  entries,  scowled,  muttered  to 
himself,  and  finally,  dropping  the  paper,  he  went  to  a 
telephone,  called  up  some  one  named  Travis,  and  re- 
quested that  person  to  come  to  him  at  once.  Lighting 
a  fresh  cigar,  he  slowly  paced  up  and  down  the  room, 
so  deeply  absorbed  in  thought  that  he  failed  to  hear 
the  door  open. 


THE  STAKE  101 

"  Are  you  receiving  visitors  to-night  ?  "  called  a  merry 
voice. 

He  turned  and  held  out  his  hands  in  answer. 

"  You  are  always  welcome,  my  dear,"  he  said,  draw- 
ing her  to  him. 

"More  business  problems?"  she  asked,  looking  past 
him  at  the  memorandum-book  on  the  table,  and  then  at 
the  frown  which  still  lingered. 

He  nodded,  laughed,  and  put  the  book  in  his  pocket. 

"  What  is  it,  Daddy?  —  anything  wrong?" 

"  No, —  nothing  very  serious." 

"  Is  it  another  —  what  is  it  you  call  it  —  another  — 
deal?  I  think  you  call  them  deals,  but  that  always 
sounds  as  if  you  were  playing  a  game  of  cards." 

He  laughed  again,  and  patted  her  cheek. 

"  It  certainly  is  a  game,  my  dear,  and  it  sometimes 
requires  more  skillful  playing  than  at  cards.  We  may 
not  always  win,  but  we  usually  do." 

He  smiled  complacently  and  went  back  to  his  seat 
by  the  fire,  while  the  girl,  drawing  a  hassock  to  his  side, 
leaned  upon  the  arm  of  his  chair,  and  gazed  dreamily 
into  the  flame. 

"  What  is  it,  my  dear?"  he  asked.  "  Why  are  you 
so  sober?  No  deals  in  that  little  head  of  yours,  I 
trust." 

"  Oh,  no !  "  she  replied,  looking  up  quickly.  "  I  was 
only  wondering  —  has  Mr.  Travis  learned  anything 
about  —  about  the  gentleman  who  brought  me  home  — 
the  one  who  helped  me,  the  time  I  was  shipwrecked  ?  " 

"  I  think  not.  I  must  ask  him  about  it.  I'm  glad 
you  reminded  me.  The  man  must  be  rewarded.  Let 


102  THE  STAKE 

me  see  —  he  supplied  you  with  money,  too,  didn't  he? 
How  much  was  it  ?  " 

"  I  don't  remember/'  she  replied  with  a  little  impa- 
tient frown.  "  I  wish  Mr.  Travis  would  find  him  and 
bring  him  here.  I  want  you  to  meet  him." 

"  That's  hardly  necessary.  Travis  can  settle  with 
him.  I'll  tell  him  to  give  the  fellow  enough  to  satisfy 
him.  It's  strange  he  hasn't  turned  up  to  claim  it." 

"  I  don't  think  he  would  ever  do  that,"  said  Louise, 
shaking  her  head.  "  Besides,  I  want  you  to  meet  him, 
and  —  and  thank  him.  We  ought  to  show  our  grati- 
tude to  him  in  some  way." 

"  I  tell  you,  my  dear,  that  Travis  is  to  attend  to  all 
that." 

"  But,  Papa,  don't  you  think  — " 

"  I  think  my  little  girl  is  fretting  herself  unneces- 
sarily," interrupted  her  father.  "  This  man  —  he  was 
a  fisherman,  wasn't  he?  —  or  was  he  a  lighthouse 
keeper  ?  — " 

Then  as  she  shook  her  head  doubtfully,  he  went  on : 

"  Whatever  he  was,  his  services  entitle  him  to  some 
reward,  and  —  to  my  thanks,  of  course,  but  that's  as  far 
as  it  should  go.  There  could  be  nothing  else  in  com- 
mon between  us.  The  matter  ought  to  be  settled, 
though.  I'll  speak  to  Travis  about  it  to-night." 

"Is  Mr.  Travis  coming  here  this  evening?"  asked 
Louise. 

"  Yes,"  replied  her  father,  looking  at  his  watch  and 
frowning.  "  I  sent  for  him.  He  ought  to  be  here 
soon." 

"  More  business  for  you  to  worry  about?  "  she  asked. 


THE  STAKE  103 

"  Some  matters  connected  with  —  with  the  syndicate," 
he  replied  carelessly. 

"  What  is  it  all  about  —  this  business  and  —  this  syn- 
dicate?" 

"  What  a  very  inquisitive  young  lady ! "  laughed  her 
father.  "  You  wouldn't  understand,  if  I  explained 
it  to  you." 

"  Perhaps  not,  but  I  might  try." 

He  smiled  indulgently,  and  took  a  few  puffs  at  his 
cigar. 

"  We  are  trying  to  get  control  of  the  copper  mar- 
ket," he  said. 

"Why?" 

"  Why  ?  "  He  looked  at  her  curiously,  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  laughed  again.  "  I  told  you  you  wouldn't 
understand." 

"  But  why  do  you  want  to  control  the  copper  mar- 
ket ?  "  she  persisted. 

"Because  —  because —  Why,  it  means  millions,  if 
we  can  swing  it." 

"  You  would  make  a  great  deal  of  money  ? "  she 
asked. 

"  Yes,  if  we  win.  But  see  here,  Louise,"  he  added, 
"  you  mustn't  speak  of  this  to  anyone  —  not  for  the 
present,  at  least." 

"Oh!     Is  it  a  secret?" 

"  Not  so  much  as  I  wish  it  was,"  he  laughed.  "  I'm 
afraid  the  other  fellows  have  discovered  our  game. 
To-day's  market  looks  like  it." 

"What  other  fellows?" 

"  The  fellows  we  are  trying  to  corner  —  but  here, 


I 

104  THE  STAKE 

I  shouldn't  be  telling  you  all  this.  You  can't  understand 
it  anyhow." 

"  I  can  understand,  Daddy,  that  you  have  been  wor- 
ried about  something  ever  since  I  came  home.  But  I 
can't  understand  why  you  get  into  these  syndicates.  Is 
it  just  to  make  more  money  ?  " 

"  Why  —  in  a  sense  —  yes.  Of  course  if  we  suc- 
ceed, we  —  yes  —  we  will  make  a  very  large  profit." 

"  But,  Daddy,  you're  rich  now,  aren't  you  ?  Every- 
body says  so.  Why  do  you  want  to  make  more  money  ? 
Why  don't  you  enjoy  life  with  what  you  have?  " 

"  Enjoy  life !  I  do  enjoy  life.  I  enjoy  this  very 
business  I  am  in  now.  I  have  planned  every  detail, 
directed  each  move,  watched  results,  overcome  diffi- 
culties, met  each  problem  as  it  presented  itself  —  I  tell 
you,  Louise,  if  I  win  this  time,  it  will  be  the  greatest 
success  of  my  life." 

He  had  risen  and  was  again  pacing  the  floor.  She 
watched  him  in  silence. 

"  You  cannot  imagine,  my  dear,"  he  continued,  "  the 
excitement,  the  exhilaration  of  such  a  battle  as  I  am 
fighting  now.  It  takes  all  the  skill  and  ingenuity  I  pos- 
sess—  all  the  ability  I  have.  The  end  is  almost  in 
sight.  I  thought  we  had  them  beaten  last  week,  but 
there  is  just  one  more  card  to  play,  and  then  — " 

He  stopped,  looked  at  his  watch  again,  and  mut- 
tered : 

"  I  wonder  where  Travis  is  ?  " 

Then,  with  a  laugh,  he  said: 

"Well,  do  you  think  you  understand  now?" 

She  shook  her  head. 


THE  STAKE  105 

"  I  only  know  that  you  are  nervous  and  tired,  and  — 
and  I  wish  you  had  nothing  to  do  with  it.  Somehow 
it  seems  beneath  you  to  be  struggling  in  this  way  for" — 
for  money." 

He  looked  at  her  in  surprise. 

"  For  money ! "  he  echoed. 

"  Yes." 

"  Money  is  the  only  measure  of  business  success," 
he  said  meditatively.  "  How  else  can  we  determine  it?  " 

"  I  don't  know  —  only  —  oh,  Daddy,  you  have  so 
much  —  why  do  you  want  more  ?  " 

He  turned  to  her  impatiently. 

"  You  don't  understand,  Louise.  There,  I  was  fool- 
ish to  try  to  explain  to  you.  Just  forget  all  about  it. 
Is  that  the  door-bell?  Travis,  probably.  Run  along 
now,  dear,  and  don't  worry  about  me." 

After  she  was  gone,  he  sat  for  a  moment  in  a  deep 
study,  until  it  was  interrupted  by  a  knock,  and,  imme- 
diately afterward,  a  young  man  entered  the  room. 

"  Good  evening,  Senator ! "  he  cried,  advancing  with 
outstretched  hand.  "  Don't  get  up.  I  needn't  ask  if 
you  have  heard  the  news.  You  have  seen  it  in  the  pa- 
pers, of  course." 

"  You  mean  the  advance  in  outside  coppers  ?  Sit 
down.  I'm  glad  you've  come,  Travis.  Tell  me  what 
you've  found  out,  and  what  you've  done.  You  know 
I  am  leaving  this  part  of  the  business  entirely  in  your 
hands.  This  new  move  looks  as  though  they  had  made 
a  gain  somewhere." 

"  I  don't  understand  it  myself,  Senator.  It  isn't  pos- 
sible that  they  have  found  us  out.  I  can  trust  Blake 


io6  THE  STAKE 

for  that.  He  graduated  with  me,  and  I  know  he's  all 
right.  He  went  to  Michigan  three  years  ago,  and  has 
made  a  special  study  of  mining  rights  and  titles." 

"  Well,  what  does  he  say  ?  " 

"  He  says  that  this  particular  strip  is  the  key  to  the 
whole  situation.  It  lies  right  between  the  Alpine  range 
and  the  '  Lucky  Jack.'  " 

"  '  Lucky  Jack '  went  up  ten  points  to-day,"  remarked 
Ellsworth,  consulting  his  memorandum-book. 

"  He  sent  me  a  blue-print  of  the  various  ranges," 
continued  Travis,  disregarding  the  interruption,  "  and 
this  shows  the  tappings  of  the  ore-bed  at  several  points. 
The  main  body  lies  on  this  land.  There  seems  to  be 
no  question  about  it.  The  out-croppings  and  the  gopher- 
ings  demonstrate  it  beyond  doubt." 

"  Well,  I  had  all  that  before.  The  question  is :  can 
you  get  it?  Travis,  we  must  have  it.  If  the  'Lucky 
Jack '  people  get  it,  it  will  make  them  strong  competi- 
tors. Without  it,  they  must  yield  to  our  terms.  The 
capture  of  the  Alpine  range  was  a  master-stroke.  That 
gives  us  control  of  the  whole  series  of  ranges,  except 
this  '  Lucky  Jack.'  We  had  them  on  their  knees  last 
week,  but  this  new  move  looks  as  though  they  had 
found  another  lease  of  life." 

Travis  nodded  his  head  thoughtfully.  It  was  no 
small  honor  for  a  man  of  his  age  to  hold  the  confidence 
of  such  a  one  as  Senator  Ellsworth.  He  knew  that, 
upon  the  success  of  his  services  in  this,  his  first  big 
case,  depended  his  whole  future.  With  infinite  care,  a 
scheme  had  been  devised  which  was  to  place  within  the 
control  of  a  handful  of  men  almost  the  entire  copper 


THE  STAKE  107 

industry  of  the  country.  One  by  one  the  various  min- 
ing companies  had  been  forced  to  yield  to  the  pressure 
of  a  combination  of  wealth,  against  which  they  dared 
not  fight.  Only  a  few  had  withstood  the  remorseless 
and  persistent  attacks  of  the  "  syndicate,"  the  chief 
being  the  "  Lucky  Jack  "  mine,  against  which  their  ef- 
forts had  been  recently  directed. 

As  the  result  of  persistent  assaults,  the  stock  of  this 
company  nearly  succumbed,  and  the  mine  was  re-chris- 
tened on  the  Exchange,  "  The  Unlucky  Jack."  Within 
the  past  two  weeks,  however,  it  had  rallied  upon  rumors 
that  new  and  valuable  property  adjoining  the  mine  was 
to  be  acquired.  It  was  this  phase  of  the  situation  which 
was  now  engaging  the  close  attention  of  the  syndicate 
and  its  shrewd  attorney,  Travis. 

"  Have  you  anything  new  to  report  ?  "  said  Ellsworth, 
looking  up  from  his  memorandum-book,  where  he  had 
been  jotting  down  some  figures. 

"  Blake  has  been  looking  up  the  title.  It  seems  dif- 
ficult to  find  out  who  or  where  the  real  owner  is.  Some 
fellow  went  in  there  about  forty  years  ago,  and  got  the 
land  from  the  government.  The  patent  was  issued  all 
right,  but  no  transfer  appears  on  the  record.  The  man 
who  got  the  patent  is  not  known  in  that  part  of  the 
country,  and  no  one  living  in  the  vicinity  remembers  to 
have  seen  him.  Of  course,  most  of  the  settlers  have 
gone  in  there  during  the  last  twenty  years." 

"  Have  the  taxes  been  paid  regularly  ? "  inquired 
Ellsworth,  sharply. 

"Yes!" 

"Who  paid  them?" 


io8  THE  STAKE 

"  I  asked  Blake  that  very  question,  and  He  replied 
that  the  taxes  had  been  paid  in  the  name  of  the  owner, 
by  an  old  fellow  living  near  there,  named  Bill  Rankin." 

"  Well,  can't  Rankin  tell  where  the  owner  is  ? ''  asked 
the  senator  sharply. 

"  Blake  is  trying  to  find  him  now.  He  disappeared 
about  two  months  ago,  and  no  one  knows  where  he 
went." 

"  Travis,  you  ought  to  take  a  hand  in  this.  Each 
day's  delay  may  be  fatal.  This  advance  in  the  stock 
means  something.  You  must  give  all  of  your  time  and 
thought  to  finding  this  party,  and  when  you  find  him, 
never  leave  him  until  you  have  landed  him.  Sound 
him  carefully,  and  see  what  he  knows  about  the  land. 
Perhaps  he  is  ignorant  of  its  value.  But,  whatever  you 
do,  get  it." 

"  Very  well,  Senator.  You  know  I  have  had  to  leave 
it  to  Blake  the  past  two  weeks,  while  I  was  hunting  for 
that  man  Weston." 

"  Yes,  I  know.  No  new  discovery  there,  I  suppose  ? 
A  strange  disappearance.  Louise  seems  to  be  very 
much  disturbed  about  it." 

"  For  her  sake,  as  well  as  your  own,  Senator,  I  have 
spent  a  lot  of  time  and  energy  following  what  appears 
to  be  a  '  will-o-the-wisp.'  The  man  has  vanished  as 
effectually  as  though  the  earth  had  swallowed  him." 

"  Let  him  go.  This  other  matter  is  more  important. 
Find  the  man  who  owns  that  land  between  the  '  Alpine  ' 
and  the  *  Lucky  Jack/  and  then  look  for  this  Dick  Wes- 
ton, or  whatever  his  name  is." 

With   which   unconscious   prophecy,   Ellsworth   dis- 


THE  STAKE  109 

missed  the  subject  and  his  guest,  who  rose,  made  his 
adietix,  and  passed  into  the  hall. 

Here  the  young  attorney  paused,  as  he  heard  the 
tones  of  a  piano  in  an  adjoining  room.  With  the  privi- 
lege of  a  frequent  visitor,  he  went  to  the  open  door  of 
the  music-room,  and,  as  the  music  stopped  abruptly, 
entered  in  time  to  greet  the  pianist,  as  she  rose  from 
her  seat. 

"  Good  evening,  Louise !  "  he  cried.  Then,  observing 
the  sudden  flush  in  the  girl's  face,  he  said : 

"  Miss  Ellsworth,  I  suppose  I  should  say,  now  that 
you  have  become  the  heroine  of  an  exciting  tale  of  ship- 
wreck and  rescue." 

"  Good  evening,  Mr.  Travis,"  replied  Miss  Ellsworth, 
coolly  ignoring  his  attempt  at  pleasantry.  "  Have  you 
come  to  tell  me  anything  ?  " 

"  Am  I  welcome  only  for  the  gifts  I  bring?  " 

There  was  a  touch  of  bitterness  in  his  speech,  and 
the  girl  smiled  faintly,  as  she  motioned  him  to  a  seat. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  Chopin  has  made  me  melan- 
choly to-night,  and  my  mood  was  rather  ungracious,  I 
admit." 

"  Then  Chopin  and  I  are  enemies  from  henceforth," 
exclaimed  the  young  man,  dropping  into  an  easy  chair, 
with  the  familiarity  of  an  old  acquaintance.  "  Please 
play  something  bright  and  cheerful,  and  bring  yourself 
into  your  usual  mood." 

"  Not  to-night.  Any  music  would  sadden  me.  I 
can't  tell  why.  It's  foolish,  I  suppose." 

"  How  can  I  make  you  happy?  "  said  Travis  earnestly. 
"  You  know  there  is  nothing  I  wouldn't  do  for  you." 


no  THE  STAKE 

"  You  are  a  very  good  friend,"  she  replied  hastily, 
"  and  I  have  proved  you  in  more  ways  than  one.  I  can't 
thank  you  enough  for  this  last  kind  service,  even  though 
you  haven't  succeeded.  There  is  nothing  new,  is 
there?" 

"  You  mean  about  this  man  Weston  ?  No.  I  can't 
find  any  trace  of  him.  He  has  utterly  vanished.  Why 
not  give  up  thinking  about  him?  You  will  probably 
never  see  him  again." 

Into  the  girl's  eyes  there  came  a  look  of  surprise. 

"  Never  see  him  again  ?  "  she  echoed. 

"  No,"  replied  Travis,  with  a  frown.  "  And  it's  bet- 
ter so.  Even  if  he  be  found,  I  can  see  no  sense  in  your 
meeting  him.  Your  father  has  authorized  me  to  re- 
ward him  liberally,  and  that  is  all  he  could  hope  for." 

"  Reward  him !  He  wouldn't  accept  it.  He  is  a  gen- 
tleman, and  he  saved  my  life,"  she  said.  "  I  left  him 
without  a  word  of  thanks  —  of  farewell.  What  will 
he  think  of  me  ?  " 

"  He  ought  to  think  himself  lucky  to  have  had  the 
chance  of  saving  you.  Anybody  would  have  done  as 
he  did.  Why  do  you  want  to  make  a  hero  of  him  ?  " 

"  You  don't  understand ! "  she  exclaimed,  shaking  her 
head.  "  If  you  had  seen  him  —  had  known  him  — 
perhaps  you  would  be  better  able  to  judge." 

"  Louise !  "  cried  Travis,  in  alarm.  "  Your  romantic 
ideas  have  warped  your  judgment.  One  would  think 
that  you  cared  for  this  man." 

She  gave  him  a  startled  look. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  asked.    "  Care  for  him !  " 

"  I  mean  that  you  are  infatuated  with  mistaken  grati- 


THE  STAKE  in 

tude,  which  has  made  a  hero  out  of  an  ordinary  indi- 
vidual, and  set  him  up  in  your  thoughts,  until  you  are 
near  to  worshiping  him.  Such  devotion  is  dangerous 
to  your  peace  of  mind." 

She  was  silent  and  thoughtful  for  a  moment,  and 
then  with  a  laugh,  which  sounded  forced,  she  cried : 

"  What  a  fairy  tale  you  have  made  out  of  it.  It  re- 
minds me  of  Belle  Carson's  adventure.  You  remember 
the  poor  fellow  who  was  run  down  by  our  carriage  some 
time  ago  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  heard  about  it." 

"  You  know  she  took  him  to  her  house,  and  had  doc- 
tors and  nurses  for  him,  but  he  has  been  unconscious 
ever  since  the  accident,  until  yesterday." 

"  Why  didn't  they  send  him  to  the  hospital  ?  " 

"  Because  it  was  in  saving  little  Dicky's  life,  that  the 
man  was  hurt,  so  Belle,  in  her  impulsive  way,  insisted 
upon  having  him  taken  to  her  house." 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  a  hospital  would  have  been  bet- 
ter." 

"  I'm  afraid  you  have  no  sentiment  in  your  nature." 

"  I've  tried  to  prove  the  contrary  to  you  many  times, 
but  you  wouldn't  listen  to  me,"  said  Travis,  meaningly. 

"  No  one  would  ever  suspect  you  of  being  senti- 
mental," she  replied.  "  But  let  me  tell  you  about  Belle. 
I  went  to  see  her  to-day.  You  know,  we  feel  interested 
in  the  man,  although  it  really  wasn't  Dobson's  fault. 
\Vhen  I  came  to  the  house  this  afternoon,  she  met  me 
with  a  torrent  of  words  in  praise  of  her  hero, — 'the 
rescuer  of  her  darling  boy/ — '  a  perfect  gentleman,  in 
spite  of  his  shabby  garments,' — '  so  patient  and  uncom- 


112  THE  STAKE 

plaining.'  Think  of  that  from  staid,  demure  Belle  Car- 
son. And  his  name  is  Bill  Jenkins.  I  am  to  see  him 
to-morrow,  if  the  doctor  will  permit,  and  tell  him  how 
sorry  I  am  for  Dobson's  unfortunate  act." 

"  Mrs.  Carson's  eccentric  fancies  do  not  interest  me 
as  much  as  yours,"  remarked  Travis,  leaning  forward 
in  his  chair,  and  trying  to  hold  her  attention.  "  It  wor- 
ries me  to  have  you  brood  over  this  man  who  had  the 
good  fortune  to  serve  you,  as  I  would  gladly  have  done, 
if  the  chance  had  come  to  me.  I  know  I  am  selfish, 
but  I  can't  endure  to  have  anyone  gain  a  foothold  in 
that  heart  of  yours,  where  I  have  failed." 

Then  as  she  rose  and  drew  away  from  him,  he  ex- 
claimed : 

"  Louise !  Is  there  no  hope  for  me  ?  Give  me  some 
task  —  some  test  of  my  devotion, —  anything  to  give  me 
the  chance  of  proving  my  love." 

She  stood  against  the  piano,  looking  soberly  at  him, 
as  he  leaned  forward  with  outstretched  hands. 

"  You  have  been  my  good  friend  always,"  she  mur- 
mured. "  Do  not  deprive  me  of  your  companionship. 
What  you  ask,  I  cannot  give.  I  would  be  untrue  to 
you  —  to  myself,  if  I  professed  a  love  for  you  which 
I  do  not  feel." 

"  Is  there  no  hope  for  me  ?  "  he  exclaimed,  brokenly. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  can't  foretell  the  future."  As  she 
spoke  she  turned  partly  away. 

"  Then  there  is  hope,"  he  cried,  springing  to  his  feet. 
"  What  can  I  do  to  win  you  ?  I  will  seek  fame,  wealth, 
everything  for  your  sake." 

She  smiled  doubtfully. 


THE  STAKE  113 

"Make  the  incentive  for  your  ambition  something 
higher  than  the  admiration  of  a  woman." 

"  But  I  must  do  something.  I  can't  drift  idly,  with 
no  effort  to  win  you.  Give  me  some  task  to  perform." 

She  hesitated,  and  then,  with  a  little  nervous  laugh, 
she  said: 

"  Find  Dick  Weston." 

He  started,  as  though  he  had  been  stung.  An  angry 
reply  rose  to  his  lips,  and  then  his  strong  nature  took 
command  of  his  feelings. 

"  Very  well,"  he  said  quietly.  "  If  that  is  the  task 
you  set  for  me,  it  shall  be  done.  I  swear  that  I  will 
find  him,  dead  or  alive.  And  then — ?" 

"  Then  I  shall  be  under  great  obligation  to  you." 

"  And  my  reward  —  ?  "  he  asked  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Mr.  Travis !  I  am  surprised !  That  was  hardly 
up  to  your  standard  of  gallantry.  A  gentleman 
shouldn't  ask  for  reward  when  a  lady  appeals  to  his 
courtesy." 

"  Always  Mr.  Travis !  "  he  said  bitterly.  "  Once  you 
called  me  by  my  first  name.  Why  are  you  so  formal 
now?" 

"  That  must  have  been  years  ago,  when  we  were  both 
children,"  she  replied  with  a  demure  smile. 

"  Then  you  have  no  more  to  say  to  me  ? "  he  cried. 
"  I  feel  that  I  am  playing  a  fool's  part,  but  I'll  stand 
by  my  word.  Good  night!" 


CHAPTER  IX 

4CT"\O  you  think  you're  going  to  die?" 

A-^       Weston  smiled,  and  shook  his  head  feebly. 

"  I'm  glad  you're  not  going  to  die." 

Weston  smiled  again,  encouragingly. 

"  'Cause  if  you  did,  the  p'liceman  would  have  to  hang 
me.  Martha  said  so." 

Weston  looked  at  the  queer  little  figure,  perched 
cross-legged,  in  his  night-clothes,  on  the  foot  of  the  bed. 

"  Why  ?  "  he  managed  to  whisper. 

"  'Cause  if  I  hadn't  runned  out  in  the  street,  you 
wouldn't  have  been  hurted,"  replied  the  penitent.  "  And 
if  you  had  died,  the  p'liceman  would  have  to  hang  me. 
Martha  said  so.  I'm  glad  you  didn't  die." 

"  So  am  I,"  said  Weston. 

"  I  like  you  pretty  well.  And  so  does  mamma. 
Martha  says  you're  a  perfick  gentleman.  I  heard  her 
say  it.  And  Aunt  Louise  is  coming  to  see  you  to-day." 

"  Aunt  Louise ! "  exclaimed  Weston,  trying  to  find 
the  name  in  his  lost  memory. 

"  Yes !  She's  the  one  who  killed  you, —  pretty  near. 
But  it  was  the  coachman's  fault.  I  was  going  to  tell 
the  p'liceman  so,  if  he  tried  to  hang  me." 

Weston  raised  his  hand  to  his  head,  still  wrapped  in 
bandages.  There  were  so  many  things  he  had  forgotten. 
That  name,  Louise,  seemed  to  be  ringing  in  his  brain. 


THE  STAKE  115 

Where  had  he  heard  it?  For  the  past  four  days,  he 
had  been  observing  the  strange  faces  about  him,  and 
studying  the  strange  room  in  which  he  was  lying.  Back 
of  that  time,  everything  was  blank.  How  he  came  to  be 
in  such  a  place,  or  why  he  could  not  leave  it,  were 
questions  for  which  he  could  find  no  answer.  As  each 
hour  brought  restoration  of  his  faculties,  he  was  slowly 
piecing  together  the  shattered  fabric  of  his  memory. 
He  knew  now  that  he  had  met  with  some  accident,  and 
that  he  was  recovering.  He  knew  that  kind,  strange 
friends  were  caring  for  him,  and  that  his  mind  was 
slowly  clearing.  The  sweet  face  of  the  woman,  who 
came  daily,  and  sat  by  his  bedside  and  fanned  him,  was 
strange  to  him,  and  yet  he  seemed  to  recall  it  in  a  dream 
from  some  other  period  of  his  existence.  Then  there 
was  the  white-capped  nurse,  and  the  doctor.  They,  too, 
were  in  his  dreams.  Louise !  The  name  was  there,  but 
not  the  person. 

"  What  are  you  thinking   about  ? "  asked  a  piping 
voice  from  the  foot  of  the  bed.     "  Please  don't  look  so 
white  and  still.     It  fwightens  me.     I  would  be  much 
obliged  to  you  if  you  would  get  well." 
"  I'll  try,"  murmured  Weston. 
The  door  opened  softly,  and  a  muffled  voice  called : 
"Dick!     Dick!     What  are  you  doing?" 
Then  there  entered  a  figure,  clad  in  an  airy  silk  morn- 
ing-gown, and  again  the  sweet  face  of  his  dreams  bent 
over  Weston's  couch. 

"  Ah !  Mr.  Jenkins !  You're  awake,  are  you  ?  Did 
this  naughty  boy  disturb  you  ?  Go  to  your  room,  Dick, 
at  once,  and  ring  for  Martha  to  dress  you." 


Ii6  THE  STAKE 

Weston  stared  into  Mrs.  Carson's  face.  That  name, 
Dick!  He  remembered  it  somewhere  in  the  past.  But 
Jenkins !  That  seemed  strange  to  him.  Was  it  his  own 
name? 

Mrs.  Carson  lifted  his  head  carefully,  and  drew  a 
fresh,  cool  pillow  under  it. 

"There,"  she  said.     "Doesn't  that  feel  better?'.' 

"  Thank  you,"  he  replied,  with  a  sigh  of  comfort. 

"  Miss  Lindstrom  will  be  here  with  your  breakfast, 
soon.  You  slept  well  last  night,  she  tells  me." 

Weston's  curious  eyes  followed  her  every  movement, 
as  she  drew  back  the  curtains  to  let  in  the  fresh  air  and 
sunlight  and  arranged  some  flowers  in  a  vase. 

"  I  wonder  if  I  might  bathe  your  face,"  she  said, 
coming  again  to  the  side  of  the  bed. 

Without  waiting  for  his  answer,  she  brought  a  bowl 
of  water,  and  gently  sponged  the  white  face  and  the 
thin,  transparent  hands,  while  his  eyes  looked  wonder- 
ingly  into  hers. 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  he  murmured. 

"  And  you  are  very  patient,"  she  replied.  "  Dr. 
Stewart  says  you  are  progressing  finely,  considering  your 
long  illness." 

"  How  long?  "  inquired  the  man,  struggling  to  regain 
his  memory. 

"  Six  weeks." 

"  What  was  the  matter?  " 

"  Don't  you  remember  how  you  stood  at  the  street 
corner,  and  when  Dicky  ran  in  front  of  the  horses  to 
get  his  ball,  how  you  sprang  after  him  —  ?  " 

"  Yes !    Yes !    Yes !  "  he  whispered  weakly,  his  face 


THE  STAKE  117 

lighted  with  sudden  intelligence.  "  I  remember.  I  re- 
member. But  you  said  '  Dick ' !  Who  is  Dick  ?  " 

"  My  little  son  whose  life  you  saved." 

"  His  name  is  Dick  ? "  muttered  Weston.  "  How 
strange !  It  seems  as  if  I  knew  him  many  years  ago." 

"  No,"  she  said,  smiling.  "  It's  only  six  weeks  since 
you  first  saw  him ;  —  since  you  first  saw  me,  his  mother. 
Do  you  remember  anything  before  your  accident  ?  " 

He  closed  his  eyes  and  tried  to  think. 

"  There  was  a  ship,  and  —  and  — " 

He  paused,  and  pressed  his  hands  to  his  head. 

"  I  can't  remember,"  he  cried  pitifully.  In  his  weak- 
ness, the  tears  rolled  down  his  thin  cheeks,  and  his 
hands  trembled  with  emotion. 

"  Don't  try  to  think  any  more,  now,"  said  Mrs.  Car- 
son, gently  stroking  his  brow.  "  It  will  all  come  back 
to  you,  in  good  time,  Mr.  Jenkins." 

"  Mr.  Jenkins !  "  he  said. 

"  Yes,  that  is  your  name." 

"  My  name  ?    Jenkins  ?    I  never  heard  it  before." 

Mrs.  Carson  rose  hastily,  and  turned  to  the  nurse, 
who  had  just  entered  the  room. 

"  Oh !  Miss  Lindstrom,"  she  whispered,  "  I'm  afraid 
I  have  been  overtaxing  his  brain.  I  tried  to  bring  back 
his  memory,  and  now  he  doesn't  even  recognize  his  own 
name." 

"  It  doesn't  matter,"  replied  the  Swedish  nurse,  glan- 
cing with  a  professional  eye  at  the  patient.  "  The  body 
must  first  be  stronger ;  then  the  mind.  Come,  sir !  "  she 
said,  setting  a  tray  near  the  head  of  the  bed.  "  Here 
is  something  to  eat." 


Ii8  THE  STAKE 

"  Mrs.  Carson  is  the  lady  who  was  just  here?"  in- 
quired Weston  a  few  minutes  later,  between  spoonfuls 
of  chicken  broth,  which  Miss  Lindstrom  administered 
with  the  regularity  of  clock-work. 

"  Yes.    Don't  talk.    Eat." 

"Do  I  know  her?" 

"  Why  not  ?    Here  is  toast.     Good  ?     Eh  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Carson !  "  repeated  Weston,  slowly.  "  I  don't 
remember." 

"  Never  mind.  Try  again,  this  afternoon.  There ! 
Now  to  get  you  right  for  when  the  doctor  comes." 

She  removed  the  tray  of  dishes,  and  next  proceeded 
to  bathe  his  limbs  with  alcohol,  working  rapidly  and 
vigorously,  and  in  silence.  Weston  gradually  fell  into 
a  dreamy  state,  and  dozed  peacefully.  After  its  strug- 
gle, his  mind  needed  rest,  and  so  he  lay  for  some  time, 
oblivious  to  his  surroundings,  and  only  hatf  conscious 
of  the  sounds  about  him.  When  at  last  he  opened  his 
eyes  again,  the  first  object  which  met  his  gaze  was  the 
form  of  Master  Dick,  perched  on  a  chair  at  the  side  of 
his  bed. 

"  Were  you  foolin'  ?  "  inquired  the  boy,  with  a  bright 
smile. 

"What?"  replied  Weston. 

"  Sh  —  sh,"  came  a  sound  from  another  part  of  the 
room.  "  Don't  make  a  noise,  Dicky.  He's  asleep." 

"  No,  he  isn't,  neither,"  replied  Dick.  "  I  guess  I 
can  see  his  eyes,  and  they're  wide  open.  You're  not 
asleep,  are  you,  Mr.  Jenkins  ?  " 

"  No !  "  replied  Weston,  smiling.  "  Is  your  name 
Dick?" 


THE  STAKE  119 

"Yes.    What's  yours?" 

"  Dick  —  Dick  —  Dick  —  "  said  Weston,  trying  to  ar- 
ticulate the  name  which  was  calling  from  that  far-away 
memory. 

The  boy  laughed  aloud. 

"  You're  funny.  You  don't  know  your  own  name. 
What  is  it,  nurse  ?  " 

"  William  Jenkins,"  replied  the  woman,  coming  to 
the  bedside.  "  Now,  run  away." 

"  No,"  said  Weston.  "  Let  him  stay.  Did  you  say 
that  my  name  was  William  Jenkins  ?  " 

"Yes.     Now  you  mustn't  talk." 

"  William  Jenkins,  William  Jenkins,"  repeated  Wes- 
ton slowly.  "  I  never  heard  the  name  before.  I'm  sure 
it's  not  mine." 

Miss  Lindstrom  looked  at  her  patient  curiously,  and 
returned  to  her  seat  by  the  window. 

"  Aunt  Louise  is  coming  to-day,"  began  Dicky. 

"  Louise ! "  exclaimed  Weston,  as  a  sudden  ray  of 
light  seemed  to  pierce  his  brain. 

With  that  name  there  came  the  memory  of  the  storm, 
the  hut,  and  the  girl  who  had  been  his  companion. 
With  a  cry,  he  struggled  to  sit  up,  and  then,  overcome 
by  the  exertion,  sank  back  helpless  and  trembling  with 
excitement. 

Thoroughly  frightened  by  this  outburst,  Dicky  tum- 
bled from  his  chair,  and  backed  towards  the  door,  while 
the  nurse  hurried  to  the  bedside.  Then,  as  she  pre- 
pared to  give  her  patient  a  restorative,  he  opened  his 
eyes,  and  said  quietly: 

"  I'm  all  right  now." 


!I20  THE  STAKE 

Miss  Lindstrom's  quick  sense  told  her  that  nothing 
serious  had  occurred,  and  so,  when  Mrs.  Carson  en- 
tered the  room  a  few  minutes  later,  she  was  able  to  re- 
assure her  with  the  remark : 

"  He's  all  right  now.  All  he  needs  is  rest.  Let  no 
one  disturb  him." 

"  The  doctor  will  be  here  soon,"  whispered  Mrs.  Car- 
son. "And  I  have  forbidden  Dicky  to  come  into  the 
room  again  to-day.  If  Louise  Ellsworth  comes,  she 
will  have  to  wait  until  another  time.'* 

Weston,  lying  with  his  eyes  shut,  listened  to  the  con- 
versation around  him,  and  his  newly  awakened  intellect 
understood  it  all.  With  deliberate  care  he  went  back 
over  the  events  of  the  week  preceding  his  accident,  down 
to  the  time  when  he  had  stood  on  the  street  corner,  be- 
side the  lady  and  her  child.  The  rest  of  the  history  he 
could  imagine  from  what  had  been  told  him.  Still  there 
was  one  thing  which  puzzled  him.  Why  did  they  call 
him  William  Jenkins  ?  And  why  was  Louise  Ellsworth 
coming  to  see  him? 

When  the  doctor  arrived  he  soon  quieted  the  fears 
of  the  two  women. 

"  No  fever !  Pulse  strong !  How  are  you,  my  man  ? 
Better,  eh  ?  We'll  have  you  out  in  another  week." 

Crossing  over  to  where  Mrs.  Carson  was  standing  at 
the  window,  he  said  in  a  low  voice : 

"  You  needn't  worry  any  more  about  your  patient." 

"  Is  he  really  better  ?  "  she  whispered. 

"  He  certainly  is.  I  believe  I'm  safe  in  saying  that 
he's  out  of  danger." 

"  It's  a  great  relief  to  me." 


THE  STAKE  121 

"  It  must  be.  By  to-morrow  it  will  be  safe  enough 
to  remove  him  to  the  hospital." 

"  No,  indeed ! "  she  replied,  incautiously  raising  her 
voice.  "  I'll  not  listen  to  it.  He  is  to  remain  here  until 
he  is  well." 

"  Do  you  insist  upon  it  ?  Surely  you  have  done  all 
that  could  be  expected  of  you.  Not  one  woman  in  a 
thousand  would  have  done  as  much." 

The  widow  blushed  before  the  marked  admiration  of 
the  handsome  doctor,  and  turned  to  the  patient,  whose 
closed  eyes  and  passive  face  gave  no  intimation  that  he 
had  overheard  their  conversation. 

"  Not  one  man  in  a  thousand  would  have  done  for 
me  what  he  did." 

"  He  was  fortunate  in  having  the  chance,"  growled 
the  doctor.  "  Then  I  suppose  he's  to  stay  here." 

"  Yes." 

"  Very  well !  Miss  Lindstrom,  you  may  take  off  the 
bandages.  I  am  in  hopes  it's  for  the  last  time.  The 
wounds  ought  to  be  healed  by  this  time." 

Mrs.  Carson  left  the  room,  but  returned  again  in  a 
few  minutes,  bearing  a  fine  bunch  of  roses. 

"  See,  Mr.  Jenkins ! "  she  cried.  "  See  what  Miss 
Ellsworth  brought  you!  She  wanted  to  tell  you  how 
sorry  she  was  for  your  accident,  but  when  she  found 
that  Dr.  Stewart  was  here,  she  decided  to  send  in  the 
roses,  and  call  another  day." 

Weston  murmured  his  thanks,  and  took  the  roses  in 
his  hand,  holding  them  to  his  face  to  enjoy  the  rich  per- 
fume. 

"  Of  course  she  ran  away  if  Dr.  Stewart  was  here," 


122  THE  STAKE 

said  that  gentleman,  sourly.  "  It's  my  fate  to  be  an 
ogre  to  women.  One  would  think  that  I  carried  con- 
tagion about  me." 

Mrs.  Carson  smiled  indulgently.  She  knew  the  worth 
of  the  man,  and,  in  her  heart,  admired  him  for  his 
genius,  his  noble  character,  and  his  great  unselfishness. 
Weston  looking  through,  and  over  his  roses,  watched 
the  little  scene,  and  listened  curiously. 

"  I  had  forgotten,  Doctor,  that  you  were  one  of 
Louise's  admirers,"  said  Mrs.  Carson.  "  Perhaps  you 
resent  her  sending  roses  to  Mr.  Jenkins  ?  " 

"  One  of  her  admirers ! "  exclaimed  the  doctor,  with 
a  grimace,  and  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders.  "  I  don't  enter 
into  a  syndicate  when  I  desire  to  show  attention  to  a 
lady.  I  would  be  the  only  one.  Besides,  Ned  Travis 
has  the  inside  track,  there.  It  is  said  that  they're  en- 
gaged." 

"  Indeed !  I  knew  that  they  had  been  close  friends 
for  several  years,  but  I  didn't  suppose  it  had  gone  that 
far." 

"  Ever  since  Miss  Ellsworth  passed  through  that 
frightful  experience,  last  month,  Travis  has  been  at  the 
house  nearly  every  day.  He  may  have  had  business 
with  her  father,  but  he  has  managed  to  shut  out  every- 
body else.  Of  course,  I'm  an  exception,  being  the  fam- 
ily physician,  and  called  in  professionally  for  nervous 
prostration  and  bad  dreams.  But  really,  she  did  have 
an  awful  experience.  Her  mother  gave  me  some  idea 
of  it.  Wrecked  on  an  island,  inhabited  by  some  queer, 
solitary  man,  who  found  her,  and  confined  her  in  his 
miserable  hut,  without  food,  for  days,  until  she  was 


THE  STAKE  123 

finally  rescued  by  a  passing  steamer.  I  didn't  get  the 
drift  of  the  whole  story,  but  it  must  have  been  a  trying 
time  for  the  girl.  She  is  still  very  much  depressed  at 
times." 

Weston  laid  down  the  roses  and  turned  his  head  on 
the  pillow  to  hide  his  tears,  which,  in  his  weakness,  he 
could  not  restrain.  He  realized  that  he  had  lost  her; 
that  she  had  gone  out  of  his  life.  He  accepted  his  fate, 
but  his  whole  manhood  resented  this  unkind  and  unfair 
account  of  his  treatment  of  her. 

In  another  part  of  the  room,  Mrs.  Carson  and  the 
doctor  were  conversing  in  low  tones.  He  could  not 
hear  what  they  said,  nor  did  he  care.  The  one  thought 
which  was  uppermost  in  his  mind  was,  that  she  would 
come  to-morrow  to  see  him,  and  would  recognize  him. 
After  what  he  had  just  heard,  he  could  not  endure  that. 
It  must  be  prevented  in  some  way. 

As  the  door  closed  and  some  one  left  the  room,  he 
looked  up  and  found  the  doctor's  face  bending  over  him. 

"  Well,  my  man !  You're  a  lucky  fellow.  Most  peo- 
ple would  have  died  under  that  blow.  You  owe  much 
of  your  recovery  to  the  care  and  attention  of  Mrs.  Car- 
son, in  whose  house  you  have  been  the  past  six  weeks." 

"  I  am  well  aware  of  that,"  declared  Weston,  calmly, 
"  and  I  quite  agree  with  you  that  I  should  go  to  a  hos- 
pital, now." 

Dr.  Stewart  studied  the  face  of  his  patient,  curiously. 

"  Where  do  you  live  ?  "  he  inquired  abruptly. 

Weston  hesitated,  and  then  replied: 

"  Nowhere  in  particular.  That  is  to  say,  I  have  no 
place  I  can  call  home." 


124  THE  STAKE 

"No  family?" 

"  No." 

"Friends?" 

"  Yes.  I  will  communicate  with  them.  What  I  want 
you  to  do,  is  to  get  me  away  from  here  to-day.  You 
can  arrange  it.  Just  insist  that  I  must  go  to  the  hos- 
pital." 

The  words  sounded  like  a  command  rather  than  a 
request.  The  doctor  was  puzzled. 

"  See  here,"  he  exclaimed.  "  I  want  to  know  who 
you  are.  What's  your  name  ?  " 

"  The  name  you  gave  me  will  do  as  well  as  any  other." 

"  William  Jenkins  ?  I  don't  believe  it's  your  real 
name.  What  kind  of  a  mystery  is  this?  Tell  me.  I 
don't  like  it." 

Weston  pressed  his  hand  to  his  head,  and  sighed. 

"  I'm  too  weak  to  argue  it  out  with  you,"  he  said 
feebly.  "  As  a  matter  of  courtesy  from  one  gentleman 
to  another,  I  ask  you  to  inquire  no  further  into  my  af- 
fairs, but  have  me  removed  to  a  hospital  as  soon  as 
possible.  And  one  thing  more.  Please  consider  your- 
self employed  by  me.  I  will  pay  the  bill  for  your  serv- 
ices." 

The  doctor  stood  gazing  down  at  the  white  face  before 
him,  undecided  what  to  do.  The  man's  words  and  man- 
ner entitled  him  to  respect  and  confidence.  Among  the 
many  strange  cases  which  had  come  under  his  charge, 
this  was  the  most  peculiar. 

"  Well !  "  said  Weston  anxiously. 

"  How  do  I  know  you  are  telling  ,the  truth  ?  "  inquired 
the  doctor,  with  a  frown. 


THE  STAKE  125 

A  flush  rose  to  the  young  man's  brow,  and  his  eyes 
gave  a  sudden  flash  of  anger. 

"  If  you  are  small  enough,"  he  cried,  "  to  take  ad- 
vantage of  my  weak  condition  to  insult  me,  I'll  ask 
nothing  more  of  you.  Have  your  own  pig-headed  way." 

The  doctor  smiled.  This  burst  of  passion  appealed 
to  him  more  than  anything  else. 

"  I'll  see  if  I  can  manage  it,"  he  said. 

"  And  please  hold  what  I  have  said  in  confidence, 
will  you  ? "  exclaimed  Weston,  responding  quickly  to 
the  change  in  the  doctor's  manner. 

"  All  right,  my  friend.  You  can  count  on  me.  I 
like  your  spirit.  You've  got  the  right  ring.  Whatever 
your  secret  may  be,  I'm  sure  it  is  nothing  discreditable 
to  you,  and  I  won't  betray  you." 

"  Thanks !  "  said  Weston  feebly,  as  he  closed  his  eyes, 
and  yielded  to  the  exhaustion  which  his  effort  had 
caused  him. 

"  You  keep  quiet  and  rest  a  while,"  said  the  doctor, 
"  and  I'll  try  my  arguments  with  Mrs.  Carson.  Here 
is  Miss  Lindstrom ;  I'll  leave  you  in  her  care." 

The  doctor's  interview  with  the  widow  lasted  nearly 
an  hour,  and  it  is  doubtful  that  the  sick  man  was  the 
sole  topic  of  conversation,  but  the  result  might  have 
been  foreseen.  Weston  was  not  surprised  when  he  was 
informed  that  the  ambulance  would  call  for  him  at 
three  o'clock  that  afternoon. 

The  news  reached  him  through  no  less  important  a 
channel  than  Dicky,  who  stole  into  the  sickroom,  with 
a  furtive  glance  at  the  august  Miss  Lindstrom,  who 
pressed  a  finger  to  her  lips,  and  raised  her  eyebrows 


126  THE  STAKE 

warningly.  Dicky  crept  to  the  bedside  on  tiptoe,  and, 
reassured  by  Weston's  smile  and  outstretched  hand,  he 
whispered : 

"  Say !  You're  goin'  away.  In  a  amb'lance.  Martha 
said  so.  Are  you  glad  ?  " 

"  Are  you  ?  "  said  Weston. 

"  No/'  exclaimed  the  boy,  impulsively.  "  I  like  you 
awfully.  I  wish  you'd  stay.  Mamma  says  you  can  if 
you  want  to.  And  you  haven't  seen  Aunt  Louise.  I 
told  her  all  about  you  this  morning  and  she's  awful 
sorry  about  her  horses  nearly  killing  you.  Will  you 
come  back  some  time  ?  " 

"  Perhaps." 

"  I  wish  you  wouldn't  say  '  p'rhaps.'  Ev'rybody  says 
*  p'rhaps '  when  they  don't  want  to  say  '  no.' 

"  I'll  see  about  it." 

"  That's  worse'n  p'rhaps,"  pouted  Dicky. 

Weston  smiled  and  patted  his  cheek. 

"  When  I  get  my  legs  again,  and  a  few  wheels  out  of 
my  head,  I'll  come  to  see  you,  and  we'll  have  a  good 
time  together." 

Dicky  looked  soberly  at  the  spot  where  the  missing 
legs  should  be,  and  examined  curiously  the  head  with 
its  invisible  wheels ;  then  drawing  a  deep  breath,  he  re- 
marked : 

"  I  guess  p'rhaps  you'd  better  get  fixed  up  first." 

Late  in  the  afternoon  the  transfer  was  made.  After 
a  farewell  with  Mrs.  Carson,  in  which  that  lady  was 
quite  cool  and  dignified,  and  her  guest  of  six  weeks  ex- 
hausted his  vocabulary  of  thanks  in  a  vain  attempt  to 
soften  the  abruptness  of  his  departure,  Weston  was 


THE  STAKE  127 

safely  carried  to  the  hospital,  and  assigned  to  a  private 
room. 

He  had  reached  a  clear  understanding  with  Dr.  Stew- 
art, and  that  gentleman,  still  in  the  dark  as  to  his  pa- 
tient's past  history,  made  provision  for  his  care  and  his 
comfort,  in  the  best  which  the  hospital  afforded. 

The  following  day,  Weston  dictated  to  one  of  the 
nurses  a  letter  which  was  duly  addressed  and  mailed  to 
Mr.  Ezra  Guilford,  Atherton's  Cove,  Maine: 

"My  Dear  Friend: 

"  Here  I  am  in  a  Boston  hospital,  and  nearly  re- 
covered from  a  bad  accident.  It  is  seven  weeks  ago, 
since  I  said  good-by  to  you  and  Mrs.  Guilford,  and 
sailed  away  for  Roger's  Island,  in  the  dory.  A  great 
many  things  have  happened  to  me  since  then,  and  I 
could  not  write  to  you  sooner.  No  doubt,  by  this 
time  you  have  given  me  up  for  lost.  The  people  here 
know  me  as  William  Jenkins.  If  you  care  to  write 
to  me,  send  your  letter  in  that  name  to  St.  James' 
Hospital.  I  will  come  to  see  you  when  I  am  well.  This 
is  only  to  let  you  know  that  I  am  alive. 

"  THE  NEPHEW  OF  YOUR  BEST  FRIEND." 


CHAPTER  X 

DURING  the  week  which  followed  Weston's  en- 
trance into  the  hospital,  his  recovery  was  rapid 
beyond  the  prophecies  of  Dr.  Stewart.  That  gentleman 
called  daily,  partly  from  professional  motives,  partly 
to  improve  his  acquaintance  with  his  singular  patient. 
As  the  invalid's  strength  returned,  and  he  was  able  to 
sit  up  and  converse  with  less  fatigue,  Dr.  Stewart  found 
in  him  an  agreeable  companion,  whose  manners  showed 
such  refinement  and  education,  that  the  mystery  of  his 
identity  became  all  the  more  puzzling.  Yet,  with  in- 
stinctive courtesy,  the  doctor  refrained  from  asking  any 
questions  which  might  seem  personal  and  inquisitive. 
Only  once  did  Weston,  in  a  moment  of  passion,  betray 
himself,  and  refer  to  his  past.  They  were  speaking  of 
the  great  improvement  in  hospital  service,  made  possi- 
ble through  the  magnificent  endowments  given  by  men 
of  wealth. 

"Take,  for  instance,  this  very  institution,"  said  the 
doctor.  "  It  was  founded  twenty  years  ago,  with  only 
limited  means,  and  dependent  upon  the  charity  of  the 
public  for  its  maintenance.  Now,  through  the  munifi- 
cent gifts  of  such  generous  men  as  " —  here  he  named 
a  number  of  prominent  and  wealthy  capitalists  — 
"  we  are  able  to  have  the  most  modern  equipment,  and 
the  best  surgical  appliances  in  the  world." 


THE  STAKE  129 

"  You  call  them  generous  ?  "  exclaimed  Weston  bit- 
terly. "  I  call  them  rascals  and  cowards,  trying  to  quiet 
their  consciences  by  giving  to  charity  some  of  the  money 
which  they  have  extorted  from  their  victims." 

"  My  dear  Jenkins,"  said  the  doctor,  amazed  by  the 
violence  of  the  remark,  "  what  foundation  have  you  for 
such  an  accusation  ?  " 

"  Some  of  those  very  men  took  from  my  father  every 
dollar  he  had,"  continued  Weston,  stirred  to  the  depths 
of  his  passion  by  the  memory  of  his  wrongs.  "  I  don't 
say  they  stole  it.  I  wish  they  had.  Then  their  pun- 
ishment would  have  been  easy  to  accomplish.  They 
drained  it  from  him,  drop  by  drop,  curse  them.  They 
gave  him  the  alternative  of  sinking  to  their  filthy  level 
of  money-greed  and  money-worship,  or  of  sacrificing 
all  he  possessed  to  save  his  honor.  He  chose  the  latter 
course,  and  they  absorbed  like  a  sponge  the  compara- 
tively small  capital  which  he  had  accumulated  by  years 
of  legitimate  effort." 

He  laughed  harshly,  and  continued : 

"  This  doesn't  appeal  to  you,  Doctor,  but  it's  a  sorry 
joke  to  me,  that  I  am  an  inmate  of  an  institution  sup- 
ported by  the  very  men  who  drove  my  father  to  poverty 
and  death.  Fortunately  I  am  able  to  pay  the  hospital 
the  regular  charge  for  my  room  and  attendance.  How 
soon  may  I  leave  here  ?  " 

"  Before  long.  To-day,  for  that  matter,  if  you  want 
to.  Have  you  any  place  to  go  ?  Pardon  me  for  asking 
the  question,  but  I  would  like  to  know  that  you  are  to 
be  with  friends." 

Weston  rose  and  paced  up  and  down  the  room  for 


i30  THE  STAKE 

a  few  minutes.  Then  stopping  in  front  of  his  com- 
panion, he  said  abruptly : 

"  I  wish  you  would  overlook  the  hasty  words  I  spoke 
just  now.  I  have  good  reason  to  feel  as  I  do,  but  I 
want  to  hold  your  esteem  and  friendship.  The  redeem- 
ing feature  of  this  tedious  sickness  has  been  my  ac- 
quaintance with  you.  A  strange  thing  has  happened  to 
me,  but,  for  the  present,  I  cannot  confide  it  even  to  you. 
When  my  life  is  readjusted,  I  would  like  to  come  to  you 
and  tell  you  all  about  it." 

There  was  a  rap  at  the  door,  and  a  servant  handed 
two  cards  to  Weston. 

"  Mrs.  Carson,  and  Miss  Ellsworth,"  he  read.  Then 
turning  to  Dr.  Stewart,  he  said :  "  Will  you  give  my 
excuses  to  the  ladies?  Tell  them,  professionally,  that 
I  can't  see  callers  to-day." 

"  Oh,  come  down  and  surprise  them,  Jenkins.  It  will 
please  them  both  to  have  you  walk  in  on  them,  clothed 
and  in  your  right  mind.  Surely  you  owe  it  to  Mrs. 
Carson.  And  poor  Miss  Ellsworth  has  tried  her  best 
to  apologize  for  her  part  in  this  affair." 

Weston  shook  his  head  stubbornly. 

"  Not  to-day,"  he  said. 

"  Well,  I'll  try  to  make  your  peace  with  them.  It 
will  be  my  last  professional  service  in  your  behalf,"  said 
the  doctor,  hurrying  away. 

Weston  stood  at  the  door  and  watched  him  as  he 
walked  down  the  long  corridor. 

"  I  hope  I  haven't  offended  him,"  he  murmured. 
"  He's  a  good  fellow." 

About  an  hour  after  the  departure  of  the  two  ladies, 


THE  STAKE  131 

escorted  by  the  gallant  doctor,  the  neat  little  housemaid 
of  the  hospital  was  again  called  to  the  door  by  another 
visitor  for  the  young  man  in  room  D.  This  time  it 
was  a  queer-looking  old  man  who  stood  in  the  door- 
way, peering  out  from  shaggy  eyebrows,  beneath  a 
broad-brimmed  felt  hat.  From  a  jungle  of  bushy  gray 
whiskers,  a  deep,  but  pleasant  voice  inquired: 

"  Is  this  the  place  where  young  Weston  is  stopping?  " 

"  Is  he  a  patient  here?"  asked  the  girl,  doubtful  of 
the  propriety  of  admitting  a  man  dressed  in  a  flannel 
shirt  and  a  linen  duster,  unless  brought  in  on  a 
stretcher. 

"  Patient !     I  guess  so.     If  he's  like  his  uncle,  he  is." 

"  I  don't  remember  any  such  name  as  Weston,  among 
the  inmates." 

"  Weston ! "  exclaimed  the  man,  with  a  broad  grin, 
which  exposed  evidence  of  the  use  of  tobacco.  "  Did 
I  say  Weston?  What  an  old  fool  I  am,  anyway.  His 
name  ain't  Weston  at  all.  It's  Jenkins.  That's  the 
name.  Of  course.  How  in  thunder'd  I  come  to  say 
Weston?" 

"  Mr.  Jenkins  is  in  room  D.  Will  you  send  up  your 
card?" 

"  My  card  ?  Why !  Bless  your  sweet  face,  my  dear ! 
I  ain't  got  a  card.  You  just  run  along,  and  tell  him 
Bill  Rankin's  come  to  see  him." 

"  Please  step  into  the  hall  and  take  a  chair.  I'll  go 
and  tell  him." 

She  started  up  the  stairs,  but  paused  half  way,  as  she 
heard  heavy  footsteps  following  her. 

"  I  just  thought  I'd  follow  along  to  save  time,"  re- 


132  THE  STAKE 

marked  the  unabashed  Mr.  Rankin.  "You  run  ahead 
sis,  and  show  me  where  he  is." 

Down  the  corridor  hurried  the  girl,  the  steady  thump 
of  the  thick-soled  boots,  resounding  behind  her  upon  the 
hardwood  floor.  Without  waiting  to  knock  for  a  re- 
sponse, she  opened  the  door  of  room  D,  and  exclaimed 
breathlessly : 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Jenkins !     Here's  a  man  to  see  you." 

Then  as  the  visitor  paused  in  the  doorway,  at  her 
side,  she  shrank  back,  and  allowed  him  to  enter. 

"  Hallo,  my  lad !     How  are  ye?  " 

The  voice  resounded  through  the  corridor,  with  a 
startling  echo.  Weston  came  forward  with  a  puzzled 
expression  on  his  face,  while  his  visitor,  carefully  clos- 
ing the  door,  turned  to  the  astonished  young  man. 

"  Dick  Weston ! "  he  exclaimed  in  a  loud  whisper. 
"  I'd  know  ye  anywhere.  Lord,  but  yer  like  him." 

He  advanced  with  outstretched  arms,  and  laid  his 
hands  on  the  young  man's  shoulders. 

"  Ye  don't  know  me,  do  ye  ?  Of  course  not.  How 
should  ye,  never  havin'  seen  me  before?  Did  ye  ever 
hear  tell  o'  Bill  Rankin?  That's  me." 

"Rankin!  Rankin!"  said  Weston,  doubtfully. 
"  Where  have  I  heard  of  you  ?  " 

"  Didn't  Ezry  Guilford  tell  ye  'bout  me  an'  yer  uncle, 
way  out  in  Mich'gan?  Now  ye  remember,  don't  ye? 
Well,  I'm  him." 

Weston  seized  the  elder  man's  hand,  and  pressed  it 
cordially. 

"  You  were  Uncle  Dick's  friend.  Yes,  I  know  about 
you.  He  thought  a  great  deal  of  you,  Mr.  Rankin." 


THE  STAKE  133 

"  Never  was  a  man  like  him.  He  was  solid  meat, 
was  Dick.  I  ain't  got  over  his  dyin',  yet.  To  think 
I  never  knowed  about  it." 

"  Sit  down,"  said  Weston,  touched  by  the  other  man's 
words,  and  the  tears  which  had  gathered  in  his  eyes. 
"  Sit  down,  and  tell  me  about  him." 

For  a  half  hour  they  talked  together,  Rankin  relat- 
ing, with  the  garrulity  of  a  man  of  seventy  years,  the 
events  of  forty  years  ago,  when  he  and  the  elder  Wes- 
ton had  been  young  men  in  that  unsettled  wilderness 
on  the  shores  of  the  great  lake.  Finally  the  conversa- 
tion came  to  a  more  recent  date,  and  Weston  asked  how 
his  new  friend  had  discovered  his  whereabouts. 

"  From  yer  letter.  When  it  come  the  other  day,  Guil- 
ford  was  laid  up  with  lumbago  or  rheumatiz  or  sunthin' 
an'  so  I  jest  started  out  fer  ye  myself." 

"How  did  you  happen  to  be  at  Atherton's  Cove?" 
asked  Weston  curiously. 

"  Lookin'  fer  you.  Say,  what  made  ye  take  th'  name 
o'  Jenkins?  Have  those  fellers  been  trailin'  you,  too?  " 

"What  fellows?" 

"  I  don't  know  who  they  all  be.  'Twas  a  lawyer 
chap,  'from  Superior,  who  started  it.  But  I  give  'em 
th'  slip.  Don't  you  know  about  it?  " 

"  No.    This  is  all  Greek  to  me." 

"  Greek !  Huh !  It's  more  like  Winnebago  Injuns. 
They've  been  hot  on  my  trail  fer  a  week." 

Weston  kept  his  patience,  and  waited  for  the  story 
which  he  knew  could  not  be  hurried  by  any  effort  on  his 
part. 

"  Ye   see,   my  boy !    Me   an'  yer  uncle  hed   some 


I34  THE  STAKE 

prop'ty  up  there  in  Mich'gan,  'longside  of  each  other. 
It  never  was  good  fer  much  'cept  huntin'  an'  fishin'  an* 
th'  big  pine  trees  which  yer  uncle  loved.  Many's  th' 
time  me  an'  him's  tromped  through  them  woods  happy 
as  two  setter  pups.  He  was  allus  kind  o'  quiet  an' 
solemn,  but  I  knowed  all  th'  time  he  was  enjoyin'  of 
himself,  even  if  he  didn't  say  a  word  fer  an  hour  at  a 
stretch.  They  wan't  nobody  livin'  'round  there  'cept 
a  few  Injuns,  an'  they  was  friendly.  Th'  huntin'  was 
good,  an'  we  lied  plenty  to  eat.  Sometimes  he'd  stay 
fer  two  or  three  months,  an'  then  he'd  pull  out  an' 
leave  me.  It  was  ter'ble  lonesome  then,  but  I  knew 
he'd  come  back,  so  I  kind  o'  kep'  th'  cabin  clean  an' 
decent,  waitin'  fer  him.  I  done  some  trappin',  an'  in 
th'  spring  I  took  my  furs  down  to  Detroit,  an'  kind  o' 
killed  time  'til  Dick  come  back.  Arter  a  while  he  used 
to  come  seldomer,  and  seldomer,  an'  I  see  he  was  gittin' 
old,  like  myself.  The  last  four  or  five  years  he  didn't 
come  at  all,  but  twicet  a  year  he'd  write  a  letter,  an' 
tell  me  how  he  was,  an'  say  lots  o'  cheerful  things 
'bout  old  times  together.  I  got  kind  o'  tired  o'  th' 
place,  an'  moved  into  Superior.  I  hed  saved  a  little 
money,  an'  I  thought  I'd  take  it  easy. 

"  'Bout  five  years  ago,  they  begun  to  git  excited  over 
the  copper  mines.  I'd  knowed  fer  a  long  time  they 
was  copper  all  through  No'thern  Mich'gan.  The  In- 
juns used  to  dig  it  up.  But  I  never  thought  much  of 
it,  ontil  one  day  some  fellers  come  to  me  an'  said  they'd 
been  prospectin'  on  my  land,  an'  found  some  copper. 
They  was  purty  decent  about  it,  an'  offered  to  give  me 
a  fair  share  o'  what  they  got,  so  I  told  'em  to  go  ahead 


THE  STAKE  135 

an'  dig.  Well,  sir,  would  you  believe  it,  them  fellers 
struck  it  rich;  right  there  on  my  ol'  wuthless  piece  o' 
land.  But  they  was  square.  They  come  to  me  an'  said 
they  was  goin'  to  'corporate,  an'  offered  to  give  me 
some  shares  in  the  comp'ny,  besides  a  r'yalty  on  all  the 
copper  they  found.  You  bet,  I  took  'em  up.  '  Lucky 
Jack '  they  call  the  mine.  It  was  lucky  f er  me,  sure 
thing.  Pays  me  over  two  hundred  dollars  a  month." 

"  That's  fine !  "  exclaimed  Weston.  "  I'm  glad  you 
fell  into  such  good  hands.  It's  a  wonder  the  infernal 
copper  trust  didn't  get  hold  of  it.  That's  the  same 
crowd  that  ruined  my  poor  father.  They're  trying  now 
to  get  control  of  the  copper  business." 

"  You've  struck  it  right,  my  boy.  They  did  try  to 
get  the  '  Lucky  Jack,'  but  they  couldn't  do  it.  An'  now 
they're  arter  yer  uncle's  land  —  your  land,  it  is  now. 
They  was  a  feller  named  Blake,  a  lawyer,  livin'  in  Su- 
perior, come  to  me  and  wanted  to  buy  my  land.  He 
talked  kind  o'  soft,  an'  it  sounded  good  to  me.  But  I 
put  him  off  ontil  I  could  see  Sam  Wade.  Sam's  th' 
president  of  the  '  Lucky  Jack.'  He  persuaded  me  not 
to  sell.  Said  I  was  gittin'  a  good  r'yalty  out  o'  my  lease, 
and  besides  that,  four  of  us  hed  control  o'  the  mining 
comp'ny  stock,  an'  orter  stick  together.  That  sounded 
all  right  to  me.  Them  fellers  hed  treated  me  fair  and 
square,  so  I  toi'  Sam  I'd  never  sell  the  land  'til  he  said 
so,  an'  would  always  give  him  the  first  chance  to  buy. 
So  there  she  stands  to-day.  I  own  the  land ;  the  '  Lucky 
Jack '  Comp'ny  has  th'  minin'  rights,  and  I've  got  a  lot 
o'  th'  stock.  It  sounds  a  little  mixed,  but  it  works  out 
purty  good  fer  me,  an'  I'm  willin'  to  trust  Sam  Wade 


136  THE  STAKE 

an*  his  pardners.  They  never  threw  me  yet,  an'  I'll 
bet  on  'em  to  th'  last." 

"That's  right,"  said  Weston;  "I'd  do  the  same  if  I 
were  in  your  place." 

For  some  moments  Rankin  sat  with  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  and  his  eyes  upon  the  floor,  as  though  consid- 
ering. Then  he  withdrew  his  hands,  sat  up  suddenly, 
and  asked: 

"Are  ye  goin'  to  sell  the  Mich'gan  prop'ty?  These 
fellers  want  it,  and  want  it  bad ! " 

"  I've  no  objection,"  said  Weston,  smiling  at  the 
other's  enthusiasm.  "  It's  a  new  thing  for  me  to  be  a 
property-owner.  I  suppose  it's  all  right.  Did  you  talk 
with  Squire  Guilford  about  it  ?  " 

"  Not  much,"  replied  Rankin,  hesitatingly.  "  Ye  see, 
I'm  stoppin'  at  Dick's  house  —  your  house  —  an'  it 
wan't  very  easy  to  hev  a  word  with  th'  squire  privately." 

"Why?"  asked  Weston. 

"Ahem!  Well!  Ye  see  —  I'd  hev  to  explain  to 
Ezry  on  th'  quiet,  an' — 'twouldn't  do  fer  women  folks 
to  know.  They  might  give  it  away." 

"  Mrs.  Guilford  isn't  that  kind." 

"  No.  Mis'  Guilford's  all  right.  But  they's  others, 
—  the  widder,  fer  instance." 

"  The  widow  ?  Oh !  I  see.  You  mean  Mrs.  Briggs," 
laughed  Weston.  "  Ah  —  I  understand.  Well,  we  can 
talk  it  over,  later.  I'm  rather  tired  now,  and  ought  to 
lie  down  and  rest.  I  know  you'll  excuse  me.  My  sick- 
ness has  taken  away  my  strength,  and  I  have  to  be  a 
little  careful  yet." 

"  Now  what  a  plumb  fool  I  am,"  cried  Rankin,  spring- 


THE  STAKE  137 

ing  to  his  feet.  "  I  fergot  all  about  yer  bein'  sick.  I'll 
git  out  an'  give  ye  a  chance  to  rest  up." 

"  Wait  a  moment,"  said  Weston,  as  he  went  to  the 
couch  and  stretched  himself  out  at  full  length.  "  Can 
you  get  some  money  for  me  ?  " 

"Sure.     How  much?" 

"  I  don't  know.  I  want  to  pay  the  doctor's  bill  and 
the  hospital  charges.  If  I  can  get  those  paid,  I'll  leave 
here  to-morrow." 

"  Would  a  thousand  be  enough  ?  'Cause  I've  got 
that  much  on  my  person.  I  always  go  loaded." 

Weston  laughed. 

"  That's  more  than  enough.  I'll  find  out  just  how 
much  I  owe,  and  we'll  settle  up  in  the  morning.  Then 
I  can  go." 

"  Where  was  ye  thinkin'  o'  goin'  ?  " 

"  To  Atherton's,  of  course." 

"Hooray!"  shouted  Rankin.  "That's  th'  talk. 
Well,  I'll  leave  ye  now,  and  be  back  again  in  the  morn- 
in'.  What  time  do  they  git  up  here  ?  " 

"  Come  about  nine  o'clock." 

"All  right!    Good-by!" 

Weston  listened  for  a  moment  to  the  tramp  of  his 
boots,  growing  fainter  and  fainter,  then  wearied  with 
the  excitement  and  exertions  of  the  past  three  hours, 
he  closed  his  eyes  and  slept. 

Meanwhile,  Dr.  Stewart,  in  his  capacity  of  escort, 
was  enjoying  the  society  of  the  two  ladies  to  the  neglect 
of  his  professional  duties.  They  spent  an  hour  or  more 
driving  in  Mrs.  Carson's  carriage,  and  finally  stopped 
in  front  of  the  Ellsworth  mansion. 


138  (THE  STAKE 

"  Come  in  and  have  a  cup  of  tea,"  cried  Louise.  "  It's 
too  early  to  break  up  this  pleasant  trio." 

The  doctor  abominated  tea,  but  he  was  fond  of  Mrs. 
Carson,  and  so  awaited  that  lady's  decision  before  com- 
mitting himself.  The  decision  being  against  him,  he 
submitted  gracefully. 

"  I  have  a  feeling  that  I  am  neglecting  my  other  du- 
ties," he  said,  as  they  entered  the  house. 

"  Other  duties !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Carson,  emphasizing 
the  first  word  and  raising  her  eyebrows.  "  Does  that 
imply  — " 

"  Oh,  no,"  interrupted  the  doctor  hastily.  "  This  is 
a  case  of  pleasure  before  duty." 

As  they  passed  the  library  door,  they  heard  the  sound 
of  voices  in  the  adjoining  room.  Prominent  among 
them  was  the  voice  of  Travis  talking  excitedly,  fol- 
lowed by  the  deliberate  tones  of  Senator  Ellsworth,  and 
occasional  remarks  by  others. 

"  We'll  have  tea  in  a  moment,"  said  Louise,  ushering 
her  guests  into  a  side  room.  "  Find  comfortable  chairs, 
and  make  3'ourselves  at  home." 

"  Didn't  I  hear  Ned  Travis's  voice  in  the  library  ?  " 
inquired  Mrs.  Carson. 

"  I  presume  so,"  replied  Louise.  "  He  has  been  here 
nearly  every  day,  lately.  Some  business  with  father." 

"  Of  course  he  doesn't  see  father's  daughter ! " 
laughed  Mrs.  Carson.  "  How  serious  is  it,  Louise  ?  " 

"  Very  serious,  I  should  judge,  from  the  hours  he 
spends  with  father  in  the  library,  night  after  night." 

"  Poor  fellow !  So  near  and  yet  so  far.  Is  it  a  case 
of  prohibition  ?  " 


THE  STAKE  139 

"  Now,  Belle !  "  replied  Louise,  flushing.  "  I  won't 
pretend  to  misunderstand  you,  but  really,  you  are  far 
from  the  truth  in  your  suspicions." 

"  Indeed !  Hark !  Some  one  is  coming  from  the  li- 
brary now.  It's  Mr.  Travis.  What  do  you  say,  Doc- 
tor? Will  he  leave  the  house,  or  come  here  in  search 
of  somebody  ?  " 

She  laughed  roguishly,  as  the  sound  of  approaching 
footsteps  was  heard. 

"  Belle,  you  are  an  incorrigible  tease,"  whispered 
Louise,  as  she  turned  to  meet  Travis,  who  had  paused  in 
the  doorway.  "  Good  evening,  Mr.  Travis !  You  are 
just  in  time  for  tea  and  wafers.  Jane !  Another  cup." 

Travis,  with  ready  self-possession,  greeted  the  little 
company,  and  seated  himself  beside  Mrs.  Carson. 

"  What  has  brought  together  this  assortment  ?  "  he 
asked.  "  Stewart,  I  thought  you  were  so  devoted  to 
your  profession,  that  social  pleasures  were  barred." 

"  The  ladies  picked  me  up  at  the  hospital,"  explained 
the  doctor  deliberately,  as  if  diagnosing  his  own  case. 
"  I  was  acting  as  escort,  and  we  stopped  here  a  moment 
at  Miss  Ellsworth's  invitation." 

"  You  doctors  have  all  the  luck,"  retorted  Travis. 
"  But  —  pardon  my  curiosity  —  what  were  you  three 
doing  at  the  hospital  ?  " 

"  Looking  after  Belle's  young  man,"  replied  Louise. 

"  My  young  man !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Carson.  "  Your 
young  man!  It  was  your  coachman  who  ran  over 
him." 

"And  your  incorrigible  boy,  who  was  the  cause  of 
the  accident," 


140  THE  STAKE 

"  Is  all  this  abo.ut  that  young  workman  you  have 
been  taking  care  of,  the  past  month,  Mrs.  Carson  ?  "  in- 
quired Travis.  "  I  heard  about  it.  Everybody  is 
praising  you  for  your  charity  and  kindness." 

"  Nonsense !  "  cried  Mrs.  Carson.  "  I  simply  gave 
the  man  a  room  and  a  nurse.  Dr.  Stewart  is  the  one 
who  saved  his  life." 

"  It  was  a  life  worth  saving,"  remarked  the  doctor, 
thoughtfully.  "  But  it  was  the  man's  physical  strength 
and  nerve  which  brought  him  through." 

"  He's  all  right,  is  he?  "  inquired  Travis,  with  passive 
interest. 

"  Yes.  He  is  to  leave  the  hospital  in  a  few  days.  I 
don't  know  what  will  become  of  him.  Seems  to  have 
no  family  and  no  occupation  that  I  could  discover.  A 
fine  fellow,  too." 

"  Poor  devil !  "  remarked  Travis,  dismissing  the  sub- 
ject, as  Jane  entered  with  the  tray. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Travis !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Carson.  "  Give 
an  account  of  yourself.  How  do  you  happen  to  be 
here?" 

"  Force  of  gravity,  Madame." 

"What's  the  attraction?" 

"  Primarily,  dollars !  Secondarily,  the  pleasure  of 
your  society." 

"  A  most  ungallant  arrangement." 

"  But  true,  much  to  my  regret.  It  is  my  fate  to  be 
"a  slave  to  business,  although  my  inclination  is  all  in 
other  directions."  He  shrugged  his  shoulders  and 
wagged  his  head  from  side  to  side  with  a  comical  ex- 
pression of  despair. 


THE  STAKE  141 

"How  is  it,  Louise?"  said  Mrs.  Carson.  "Has 
your  house  become  a  business  center  ? " 

"  Papa's  library  seems  to  be,  judging  from  the  daily 
conferences  there.  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  it's  all 
about." 

"  Tell  us,  Mr.  Travis,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Carson. 
"  What  is  the  important  business  you  have  on  hand, 
now?" 

"  Hunting  for  a  man,"  replied  Travis. 

Louise  turned  with  a  start. 

"  I  might  say,  for  two  men,"  he  added,  in  response 
to  her  look  of  inquiry. 

"  Two  men  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Carson,  upon  whom  the 
exchange  of  glances  was  not  lost. 

"  Yes.  One  for  Miss  Ellsworth,  and  one  for  her 
father." 

Louise  flushed  deeply,  and  then  said  with  dignity : 

"  Mr.  Travis  has  been  good  enough  to  interest  him- 
self in  my  search  for  the  man  who  saved  my  life." 

"  Richard  Weston !  "  cried  Travis,  mockingly.  "  Alias 
Dick !  Alias  Robinson  Crusoe !  Alias  —  Has  he  any 
other  names,  Miss  Ellsworth  ?  " 

"  Yes !  A  gentleman ! "  cried  Louise,  with  a  dan- 
gerous fire  in  her  eyes. 

"  One  hundred  dollars  reward  for  Gentleman  Dick !  " 
said  Travis,  oblivious  of  the  girl's  displeasure.  "  One 
hundred  dollars,  dead  or  alive  I  Make  a  note  of  it, 
Doctor!  You  may  run  across  him  in  your  rounds." 

"  I  hope  I  shall,  for  Miss  Ellsworth's  sake,"  replied 
the  doctor,  hastening  to  interpose.  "  Who  is  the  other 
man?  What's  his  name ?" 


142  THE  STAKE 

"  Don't  know.  That's  the  trouble.  You  can't  trace 
a  man  without  knowing  his  name,  can  you  ?  " 

"Where  does  he  live?" 

"  I  wish  I  knew." 

"  What  a  mysterious  person,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Car- 
son. "  I'm  all  curiosity.  Is  there  a  secret  about  him  ?  " 

"  Not  exactly,"  replied  Travis,  hesitatingly.  "  Just 
a  matter  of  business." 

"What  is  it?     Come!     Tell  us!" 

Mrs.  Carson's  pretty  face  was  bright  with  expectancy. 
Travis  turned  to  Louise. 

"  Will  you  permit  such  a  conspiracy  in  your  own 
house?  This  is  a  case  of  bribery.  Mrs.  Carson  is  try- 
ing to  persuade  me  to  betray  a  professional  secret." 

"  You  are  not  always  so  cautious  about  telling  of 
your  affairs,"  she  retorted. 

"  But  this  isn't  my  affair.  It's  your  father's,  and 
the  men  associated  with  him." 

"  The  great  copper  syndicate,  I  suppose,"  exclaimed 
the  girl,  impulsively.  "  Poor  papa  has  been  worrying 
about  it  so  much  lately.  I  wish  he  would  give  up  busi- 
ness." 

"  He  may  well  do  so,  if  he  carries  this  deal  through." 

"  But  who  is  the  man  you  are  looking  for  ?  "  persisted 
Mrs.  Carson,  while  Dr.  Stewart  with  a  laugh  said : 

"  You  might  as  well  confess,  Travis.  You  have  gone 
too  far  to  recede,  now.  The  ladies  are  bound  to  draw 
it  out  of  you." 

"  Oh !  You  are  all  making  too  much  fuss  about  it. 
It's  no  great  secret.  This  man  owns  some  land  we 
want  to  buy,  and  we  can't  find  him." 


THE  STAKE  143 

"What  kind  of  land?  Where  is  it?"  asked  Mrs. 
Carson. 

Travis  laughed  nervously.  His  own  judgment 
warned  him  not  to  say  too  much,  and  yet  it  seemed 
foolish  to  appear  so  mysterious  about  a  matter  in  which 
these  persons  could  have  no  interest. 

"  Just  a  lot  of  worthless  land,  away  out  in  Michigan," 
he  said  carelessly. 

"  Worthless  ?  "  repeated  Mrs.  Carson.  "  Then  why 
do  you  want  to  buy  it  ?  " 

"  Oh !  Just  for  the  scenery  and  the  beauties  of  na- 
ture." 

"And  copper?"  interjected  Dr.  Stewart,  with  a 
knowing  wink. 

"Perhaps.     That  remains  to  be  seen." 

Mrs.  Carson  clapped  her  hands. 

"  I'm  sure  it's  a  rich  discovery,  which  will  make 
everybody  wealthy.  Oh,  Louise!  I  wish  your  father 
would  let  me  invest  in  it.  Do  they  ever  admit  ladies 
to  a  syndicate,  Mr.  Travis?" 

"  I'm  afraid  you  wouldn't  care  to  take  the  chances." 

"  Let's  get  up  a  syndicate  of  our  own,"  cried  the  irre- 
pressible little  woman.  "  Will  you  join,  Dr.  Stewart?  " 

"  Indeed  I  will,"  he  replied  with  enthusiasm. 

"  The  first  thing  we'll  do,  is  to  find  the  man  — " 

Travis  laughed. 

"  Find  the  man,  and  I'll  guarantee  a  satisfactory  re- 
ward." 

"  Could  we  buy  it  from  him  cheap  ?  " 

"  If  you  don't  make  too  much  noise  about  it,"  re- 
plied Travis,  good-naturedly. 


144  THE  STAKE 

"  Doesn't  the  man  know  what  the  land  is  worth  ?  " 
asked  Louise  suddenly. 

"  I  hope  not." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?" 

"  I  mean  that  we  want  to  buy  it  from  him,  before  he 
finds  out  —  but  here,  I'm  talking  too  much."  He  rose 
to  his  feet.  "  I  must  be  going,"  he  said  hastily. 

But  Louise  stood  before  him,  her  large  eyes  looking 
straight  into  his. 

"  Is  it  possible,  Mr.  Travis,  that  you  are  going  to 
take  advantage  of  this  man?  Do  you  suppose  that  my 
father  would  permit  you  to  do  such  a  thing?  " 

"  It's  all  in  the  way  of  business,  Louise  —  Miss  Ells- 
worth. You  mustn't  misjudge  us.  If  we  have  knowl- 
edge which  another  has  not,  we  are  entitled  to  the  re- 
ward of  our  own  diligence, —  our  own  shrewdness.  We 
shall  pay  the  man  all  he  asks  for  the  land,  and  he  will 
be  satisfied." 

"  Until  he  finds  out  that  he  has  sold  a  fortune  for  a 
pittance." 

"  Poor  devil ! "  remarked  the  doctor,  sympathetically. 

Travis  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  started  for  the 
door. 

"  I'm  sorry  that  I've  put  myself  in  such  a  bad  light, 
but  you  know  you  forced  me  to  tell  you.  The  man 
isn't  found  yet,  and  some  one  may  get  at  him  before 
we  do." 

"  I  sincerely  hope  so,"  said  Louise. 

Travis,  startled  by  the  strange  tone  of  her  voice,  tried 
to  catch  her  eye,  but  she  bowed  coldly,  and  he  turned 
away  and  left  the  house. 


CHAPTER  XI 

{  {  l\/fy  Dear  Travis: 

**  4-  '-*•  "  My  man  has  just  reported  to  me  the  com- 
pletion of  his  search  through  the  records.  He  finds 
that  the  land  was  entered  and  patented  June  3d,  1861, 
by  Richard  Weston,  and  that  there  has  never  been  a 
transfer  of  the  title  since  that  date.  Up  to  1878  the 
taxes  were  paid  by  Weston,  but  since  that  time  a  man 
named  William  Rankin  has  been  paying  them  in  Wes- 
ton's  name.  About  three  weeks  ago  this  man  Rankin 
paid  the  taxes,  as  usual,  but  had  the  receipt  made  out 
in  the  name  of  the  estate  of  Richard  Weston,  stating 
that  he  had  received  word  of  his  friend's  death.  My 
correspondent  could  learn  nothing  further,  except  that 
Rankin  had  gone  east,  presumably  to  find  Weston's 
heirs.  Will  advise  you  if  I  learn  anything  more. 

"Yours, 

"  BLAKE." 

Travis  sat  in  his  private  office,  and  re-read  the  letter 
which  he  had  just  received  in  his  morning  mail.  He 
recalled  the  stormy  interview  which  he  had  held  with 
his  clients,  the  day  before,  in  Senator  Ellsworth's  li- 
brary; when  he  had  been  told  that  he  must  show  im- 
mediate progress  in  his  work,  or  his  services  would  no 
longer  be  required.  It  had  been  a  bitter  pill  for  him 


146  THE  STAKE 

to  swallow,  but  he  could  not  afford  to  break  with  his 
influential  employers,  and  so,  smothering  the  passionate 
reply  which  rose  to  his  lips,  he  had  made  promises, 
which,  at  the  time,  he  knew  not  how  to  fulfill.  The 
letter  from  Blake  had  come  in  the  very  nick  of  time. 
It  furnished  a  clew. 

"  Richard  Weston !  "  he  muttered.  "  Strange !  The, 
name  of  Louise  Ellsworth's  rescuer!  Of  course  it 
couldn't  be  the  same  man.  Besides,  he's  dead,  and  it 
is  with  his  heirs  that  the  deal  must  be  made.  The  first 
move  is  to  find  these  heirs.  That  means  a  long  search, 
and  loss  of  valuable  time.  The  man,  Rankin,  might  be 
found  more  easily." 

He  sat  for  a  moment  thinking  deeply,  and  then, 
pressing  an  electric  button,  he  turned  to  his  assistant, 
who  promptly  appeared. 

"  Wayne,  I  wish  you  would  make  the  rounds  of  the 
hotels,  and  see  if  you  find  the  name  of  William  Rankin 
registered  during  the  past  three  weeks.  Try  all  of 
them.  Call  Miss  Rand  as  you  go  out." 

To  his  stenographer  he  dictated  a  telegram  to  his 
correspondent  in  New  York,  directing  a  similar  search 
of  the  hotels  of  that  city.  He  prepared  advertisements 
for  the  papers  asking  for  information  of  the  where- 
abouts of  the  heirs  of  Richard  Weston.  He  searched 
the  directories  of  several  cities,  prepared  a  list  of  per- 
sons named  Weston,  and  arranged  a  form  of  letter  to 
be  sent  to  each.  Then  taking  his  hat,  he  left  the  office 
and  boarded  a  street  car. 

After  a  ride  of  two  miles  or  more,  he  alighted,  and 
walked  rapidly  down  a  side  street,  until  he  came  to  a 


respectable-looking  boarding-house,  where  he  stopped 
and  rang  the  bell. 

"  May  I  see  Mrs.  Foster  ?  "  he  inquired  of  the  red- 
cheeked  Irish  girl  who  came  to  the  door. 

"  Yissir !  "  replied  the  girl,  with  the  nod  of  an  old 
acquaintance.  "  She's  in  the  kitchen,  but  I'll  have  her 
here  in  a  jiffy.  An'  have  ye  found  the  young  gintle- 
man  yet  ?  " 

"  No ! "  replied  Travis,  shortly,  as  he  passed  her,  and 
went  into  the  neat  sitting-room. 

"  Well,  yer  not  so  shmart  as  ye  t'ink,"  muttered  the 
girl,  as  she  went  to  call  her  mistress. 

Mrs.  Foster,  rotund  and  perspiring,  soon  appeared 
before  Travis,  wiping  her  hands  upon  her  apron,  and 
looking  at  her  visitor  over  her  spectacles. 

"  Waal,  I'm  glad  ye've  come.  You're  a  liyar,  an'  can 
tell  me  if  I  done  right." 

"  Certainly,  Mrs.  Foster,"  said  Travis,  not  heeding 
her  remark.  "  Any  word  from  young  Weston  ?  " 

"  That's  just  what  I  want  to  talk  to  ye  about.  He 
wouldn't  say  whether  Mr.  Weston  was  dead  or  alive. 
He  jest  said,  *  Woman,  you  send  that  boy's  clothes  to 
his  folks  at  Atherton's  Cove.'  Those  was  his  exact 
words." 

"  WTho  are  you  talking  about  ? "  demanded  Travis 
peremptorily. 

"  The  old  man  who  come  here  this  mornin' !  " 

"  What  old  man  ?    What  was  his  name  ?  " 

"  I  don'  know.  Hoi'  on !  Yes,  I  did  hear  him  say 
his  name  was  Ranking  or  some  such  name." 

Travis  sprang  from  his  chair,  excitedly. 


I48  THE  STAKE 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  William  Rankin  was  here 
to-day,  inquiring  about  Richard  Weston?" 

"  Massy's  sakes ! "  exclaimed  the  landlady,  pushing 
her  spectacles  over  her  forehead.  "  You  don't  sup- 
pose he  meant  any  harm  to  him,  do  you  ?  " 

But  Travis  was  already  on  his  way  to  the  door.  If 
Rankin  was  in  the  city,  looking  for  Weston,  there  was 
no  time  to  be  lost.  He  must  find  the  one,  and,  through 
him,  the  other.  Hurrying  back  to  the  office,  he  found 
Wayne  awaiting  him. 

"  Here's  the  record  you  want,  sir.  William  Rankin 
has  been  at  this  hotel  for  two  days,  but  paid  his  bill  and 
left  this  morning." 

Travis  dropped  into  a  chair,  and  wiped  the  perspira- 
tion from  his  forehead. 

"  Thanks,  Wayne ! "  he  said.  Then  as  the  clerk 
turned  to  leave  him,  he  called : 

"  You  didn't  find  out  where  he  went,  did  you  ?  " 

"  No,  but  I  will." 

"  Good.    See  if  you  can." 

Deliberately  and  calmly  the  young  lawyer  reviewed 
the  facts,  and  planned  his  movements.  The  probability 
was  that  Rankin  had  discovered  the  whereabouts  of 
Weston,  and  Weston  had  sent  him  to  his  boarding-place 
for  his  clothes.  But  the  clothes  were  to  be  sent  to 
Atherton's  Cove.  Then  Weston  must  be  there,  too. 
The  Richard  Weston  who  owned  the  land  in  Michigan 
was  dead;  then  this  Richard  Weston  was  perhaps  his 
son. 

Suddenly  he  started  forward  in  his  chair,  with  a 
gasp  of  surprise.  He  had  forgotten  for  the  moment 


THE  STAKE  149 

that  his  first  visit  to  Mrs.  Foster's  was  in  the  interest 
of  Louise  Ellsworth,  in  a  search  for  her  rescuer.  What 
a  strange  combination  of  circumstances!  Was  it  pos- 
sible that  Dick  Weston,  hero  of  Louise  Ellsworth's 
thrilling  escape,  and  Richard  Weston,  heir  to  one  of 
the  richest  copper  prospects  in  the  country,  were  one 
and  the  same  person ;  that  his  double  search  was  for  one 
man  only?  Strange  as  it  seemed,  Travis  was  con- 
vinced that  his  surmise  was  correct,  and  with  the  con- 
viction came  a  sense  of  satisfaction  that  he  alone  held 
the  key  to  the  mystery.  The  information  which  had 
come  to  him,  was  a  favor  of  fortune  which  he  might 
use  to  his  own  advantage  in  more  ways  than  one. 

When  Wayne  returned  in  the  course  of  an  hour,  with 
the  information  that  a  man  answering  Rankin's  de- 
scription had  purchased  two  tickets  for  Oldfield,  and, 
with  a  younger  companion,  had  left  on  the  morning 
train,  Travis  smiled. 

"  I  had  guessed  as  much.  Let  me  know  about  the 
trains,  Wayne.  I  must  follow  them  as  soon  as  possible." 

"  I  looked  that  up  while  I  was  at  the  station.  There 
is  a  morning  train  at  ten-thirty.  The  other  trains 
don't  stop  at  Oldfield,  except  upon  special  orders. 
Shall  I  try  to  get  an  order  for  the  night  train  to  stop  ?  " 

"  No.     I'll  wait  until  morning." 

He  looked  at  his  watch,  and  found  that  he  had  only 
time  to  dress  for  dinner.  His  new  discovery  restored 
his  spirits,  and  he  could  not  resist  sending  a  message 
to  Senator  Ellsworth,  stating  briefly  that  he  was  on 
the  track  of  his  man,  and  hoped  to  find  him  to-morrow. 
Later,  when  a  telephone  call  at  his  club  brought  an 


150  THE  STAKE 

urgent  request  from  the  senator  to  come  to  his  house 
at  once,  Travis  obeyed  with  alacrity,  and,  in  the  quiet 
of  the  library,  told  his  client  some  of  the  latest  develop- 
ments of  the  case. 

"  Who  did  you  say  was  the  owner  of  the  land, 
Travis  ?  "  asked  the  senator  after  listening  intently  for 
a  few  minutes. 

"  The  owner  is  dead.  It  is  his  heir  that  I  am  looking 
for,"  replied  Travis. 

"  But  what  was  his  name  ?  "  inquired  the  elder  man 
persistently. 

"  This  man,  Rankin,  knows  all  about  it,  and  I  have 
Rankin  located,  at  last.  I  hope  to  see  him  to-morrow." 

"  See  here,  Travis ! ""  exclaimed  Ellsworth,  impa- 
tiently. "  Don't  try  to  dodge  matters  with  me.  I've 
asked  you  twice,  what  is  the  name  of  the  man  who 
owned  this  land.  If  you  know  it,  tell  me.  If  you 
don't  know  it,  it's  time  you  found  out." 

"  I  expect  to  find  out  everything  to-morrow,  when 
I  see  Rankin." 

"  Rankin !  Rankin !  Can't  you  see,  man,  tfiat  your 
trick  is  to  find  the  owner  before  Rankin  does?  How 
do  you  know  that  Rankin  isn't  working  for  the  other 
side?" 

Travis  started,  and  an  anxious  look  came  into  his 
face. 

"  I  confess,  that  thought  never  occurred  to  me." 

"  You  see !  It  isn't  safe  to  be  over-confident.  You 
are  young  and  have  a  few  things  to  learn.  The  first 
thing  is  to  find  the  name  of  the  owner  of  the  land." 

"  His  name  was  Weston,"  said  Travis. 


THE  STAKE  151 

"Weston?  Well,  why  didn't  you  say  so  before? 
Weston!  Not  an  uncommon  name.  There  must  be 
families  of  that  name  here  in  Boston.  I  seem  to  re- 
member the  name.  Let  me  see — " 

He  frowned,  pursed  his  lip,  and  bent  his  head  in 
deep  study.  There  was  a  light  tap  at  the  door,  a  swish 
of  skirts,  and  Louise  entered  the  room. 

"  Oh !  Good  evening,  Mr.  Travis !  "  she  said,  a  look 
of  surprise  on  her  face.  "  I  thought  papa  was  alone, 
and  just  run  in  to  see  if  he  didn't  want  a  game  of 
cards." 

"  Louise,"  said  her  father  abruptly,  "  do  we  know 
some  people  named  Weston  ?  " 

The  girl  started,  flushed  deeply,  and  replied : 

"  No  one,  except  the  gentleman  who  saved  my  life." 

"  That's  it !  That's  where  I  heard  the  name.  Travis 
was  just  telling  me  — " 

"  I  was  saying  to  your  father,"  interrupted  Travis, 
with  a  warning  signal  to  the  senator,  "  that  I  had  just 
heard  of  an  old  man  named  Weston,  who  died  recently, 
and  he  was  quite  positive  that  he  was  an  acquaintance  of 
his.  No  doubt  it  was  the  similarity  of  the  name  which 
gave  your  father  the  impression." 

This  lame  and  labored  statement  was  sufficient  to 
put  Ellsworth  on  his  guard,  and,  while  he  could  not  un- 
derstand the  necessity  for  such  extreme  precaution,  he 
was  careful  to  say  no  more  about  it.  On  the  other 
hand,  Louise,  who  would  otherwise  have  given  no 
thought  to  the  matter,  became  convinced  of  some  secret 
which  Travis  was  trying  to  conceal  from  her.  His 
interruption  of  her  father,  his  hesitancy,  his  very  ap- 


152  .THE  STAKE 

parent  uneasiness,  aroused  her  suspicions,  and  she  de- 
termined to  force  from  him  the  truth,  or  a  deliberate 
falsehood. 

"  Mr.  Travis  1  Have  you  ever  discovered  any  trace 
of  the  man  I  asked  you  to  find?  " 

"  I  have  made  a  diligent  search,  and  have  never  found 
him." 

"  That  doesn't  answer  my  question,"  she  said  impa- 
tiently. "  I  asked  you  if  you  had  found  any  trace  of 
him." 

Travis  glanced  towards  Ellsworth,  as  if  appealing 
to  him  for  help.  But  that  gentleman  appeared  to  be 
an  indifferent  listener,  and  not  inclined  to  participate  in 
the  conversation. 

"  I  thought  I  had  found  a  clew,"  said  Travis,  hesi- 
tatingly, avoiding  her  eyes.  "  A  man  of  that  name  has 
been  living  in  a  boarding-house  in  Boston,  but  he  has 
not  been  there  for  nearly  two  months,  and  the  woman 
who  keeps  the  house  couldn't  tell  where  he  had  gone. 
There !  You  see  it  didn't  amount  to  much.  I  thought 
it  was  hardly  necessary  to  bother  you  about  it." 

"  And  you  found  nothing  more  —  nothing  to  show 
where  his  home  was  ?  " 

"  Nothing  definite,"  replied  Travis,  trying  to  hold  to 
the  truth,  and  yet  determined  not  to  betray  all  he  knew 
or  suspected. 

"  Why  can't  you  be  frank  with  me  ?  "  cried  the  girl, 
passionately.  "  Because  I'm  a  woman,  you  try  to  sat- 
isfy me  with  phrases,  when  I  want  to  know  the  whole 
truth." 

"  Louise !  "  exclaimed  her  father  sharply.     "  You  for- 


THE  STAKE  153 

get  yourself.  I  am  surprised  at  your  exaggerated  in- 
terest in  this  fellow.  It  is  nothing  for  you  to  worry 
about.  If  Travis  finds  him,  I'll  see  that  he  is  properly 
rewarded.  Now,  run  along,  dear.  Wait,  Travis !  I've 
something  more  to  say  to  you." 

"See  here,  Travis!  What's  all  this  about?"  he 
asked,  after  Louise  had  left  them  alone  together. 
"  You're  keeping  something  back.  Out  with  it." 

Travis  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Merely  a  surmise  on  my  part.  It  occurred  to  me 
that  possibly  this  man,  Weston  —  this  fellow  Miss  Ells- 
worth is  so  anxious  to  discover,  is  the  very  man  we 
are  looking  for  in  connection  with  the  land  deal." 

"  Nonsense !     What  put  that  into  your  head  ?  " 

"  There  are  several  things  which  point  that  way.  So 
I  thought  best  not  to  say  too  much  to  Miss  Ellsworth, 
until  I  knew  the  facts.  If  my  surmise  were  true,  it 
would  be  a  little  awkward  to  handle  the  case,  especially 
if  we  were  handicapped  by  her  sympathies." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right,  but  it  sounds  like  another 
piece  of  romance.  It  seems  strange  that,  at  my  time 
of  life,  I  should  be  involved  in  a  series  of  fantastic 
events.  First  came  that  shipwreck ;  then  the  disappear- 
ance of  the  man,  Weston ;  next,  the  injury  to  the  fellow, 
Jenkins;  and  now  this  annoying  chase  after  the  mys- 
terious owner  of  that  piece  of  land.  Travis,  you  must 
find  him.  Drop  everything  else.  Work  night  and  day 
until  you  find  him.  I  hope  you  are  on  the  right  track 
now.  We  must  have  an  option  on  that  land  just  as 
quick  as  it  can  be  got.  You  know  the  terms.  If  he 
won't  accept  them,  hold  him,  and  telegraph  for  me." 


154  THE  STAKE 

"  I  hope  to  report  success  before  the  end  of  the 
week,"  said  Travis,  confidently,  as  he  prepared  to  leave. 
"  Will  you  please  say  good  night  for  me  to  Miss  Ells- 
worth ?  I  hope  I  haven't  offended  her.  We  have  been 
such  good  friends  for  many  years,  and  —  you  must  see, 
sir,  that  I  —  that  I  care  for  her  very  much.  I  am  in 
hopes,  some  day,  to  win  her  consent,  and  yours,  to  — " 

He  paused,  and  the  senator,  with  a  condescending 
smile,  and  a  wave  of  his  hand,  said : 

"  All  in  good  time,  my  young  friend !  Carry  out  this 
work  which  has  been  put  in  your  charge,  and  —  who 
knows  what  may  happen ! " 

In  another  part  of  the  house,  Louise  was  trying  to 
persuade  her  mother  to  join  her  in  a  trip  into  the 
country. 

"  My  dear  child,  it  is  not  to  be  thought  of.  I  have 
a  paper  to  read  to-morrow  at  a  meeting  of  the  D.  A.  R. 
Next  Monday  the  guild  meets  here.  Then  I  have  prom- 
ised Dr.  Peters  to  help  him  Tuesday  in  his  effort  to 
organize  a  literary  society  in  the  church.  And,  you 
know,  Wednesday  is  the  regular  meeting  of  the  Board 
of  Managers  of  the  Colonial  Dames.  You  see  it  is  im- 
possible for  me  to  go.  July  first,  we  will  break  up  as 
usual,  and  go  to  Marblehead  Neck.  Can't  you  rest  con- 
tent until  then  ?  " 

"  I'm  not  discontented,  Mamma,  but  I  am  restless, 
I  admit.  I  wonder  if  I  could  get  Belle  Carson  to  go 
with  me.  You  wouldn't  object  to  that  kind  of  arrange- 
ment, would  you  ?  " 

"  No !  Belle  is  a  perfectly  proper  person.  But  do 
you  suppose  that  she  will  go  ?  " 


THE  STAKE  155 

"  I  don't  know.    I'll  ask  her  to-morrow." 

"  Where  did  you  plan  to  go  ?  " 

"  Oh,  somewhere  along  the  coast ! " 

"  I  am  so  afraid  of  the  water,  dear,  since  your  last 
experience." 

"  But  I  am  not  going  on  the  water." 

"  Very  well !  If  Mrs.  Carson  will  go  with  you,  I 
have  no  objection." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Louise,  kissing  her.  "  And  good 
night.  It's  after  ten  o'clock." 

"  Where  is  your  father  ?  " 

"  In  the  library  with  Mr.  Travis." 

"  Still  talking  about  that  copper  business,  I  suppose," 
sighed  Mrs.  Ellsworth. 

"  What  is  there  about  it,  Mamma  ?  What  are  they 
trying  to  do  ?  " 

"  Oh,  dear,  child !  Don't  ask  me !  Some  combina- 
tion your  father  is  making,  to  control  the  price  of  cop- 
per, I  believe." 

"  How  does  he  do  it?  "  asked  the  girl  curiously. 

"  Louise,  dear,  if  I  knew,  I  would  be  as  brilliant  as 
your  father.  In  a  general  way,  I  understand  that,  by 
combining  a  large  amount  of  capital,  these  men  are 
able  to  control  things." 

"  It  must  take  an  immense  amount  of  money,  to  own 
all  there  is  of  such  a  thing,  for  instance,  as  copper." 

"  They  do  not  buy  it  all.  They  get  control,  some- 
how. Of  course  there  are  others  who  are  not  in  with 
them." 

"  What  do  the  others  do?  " 

"  The  others  ?    The  ones  who  are  not  in  the  syndi- 


156  THE  STAKE 

cate  ?  Why,  I  suppose  they  try  to  meet  the  competition 
of  the  trust.  They  generally  have  to  give  up." 

"  Is  that  fair  ?  "  inquired  the  girl  solemnly. 

"  Fair  ?  I  presume  so.  Don't  ask  me.  I  am  very 
ignorant  of  business  matters.  Ask  your  father.  He 
can  tell  you.  He  made  all  his  money  in  that  way.  You 
know  he  wouldn't  do  anything  wrong." 

"  Of  course  not,"  replied  the  girl,  dreamily. 

Later,  when  she  was  in  her  own  room,  she  hunted  up 
a  time-table,  spread  out  the  map,  and  searched  along 
the  coast  of  Maine,  until  she  came  to  a  name  in  very 
small  print. 

"  Atherton's  Cove ! "  she  said,  smiling  to  herself. 
"  If  Belle  will  only  go  with  me ! " 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  first  week  of  June  is  the  annual  resurrection- 
time  for  the  inhabitants  of  Atherton's  Cove. 
Then  it  is,  that  certain  things  occur  with  the  regularity 
of  ancient  custom.  The  windows  of  Simpson's  store 
are  washed,  and  last  year's  exhibit  of  merchandise  re- 
moved, to  make  way  for  late  importations  of  gum,  let- 
ter-paper, painted  china,  souvenir-spoons,  ten-cent 
novels,  neckties,  soap,  and  fishing  tackle.  The  pro- 
prietor of  the  "  Ocean  View  Hotel "  engages  "  extry 
help,"  and  prepares  his  annual  advertisement  for  the 
Boston  papers,  reciting  the  beauties  of  the  spot,  the  fish- 
ing, sailing,  etc.,  and,  above  all,  the  superb  attractions 
of  his  hostelry. 

Thrifty  villagers,  who  do  not  believe  in  monopolies, 
whitewash  their  fences,  hang  freshly  starched  curtains 
in  their  windows,  and  display  signs,  inviting  visitors  to 
enjoy  with  them  "  board  and  lodging  for  three  dollars 
a  week." 

But  the  real  opening  of  the  season  is  when  "  Dad  " 
brings  out  his  flotilla  of  sailboats,  freshly  painted,  and 
anchors  them  near  the  wharf,  where  they  may  be  seen 
in  the  foreground  of  the  waterscape,  dancing  saucily, 
with  their  masts  stiffly  beckoning  and  enticing  tired  and 
dusty  landsmen. 

Then  is  the  time  when  Squire  Guilford  greases  afresh 


158  THE  STAKE 

the  axles  of  his  stage,  when  the  price  of  eggs  advances 
to  twelve  cents  a  dozen ;  and  when  the  postmaster  makes 
a  requisition  upon  the  Department  for  an  additional  sup- 
ply of  stamps. 

Those  who  have  watched  the  progress  of  local  events 
for  many  years,  speculate  upon  the  first  arrivals  — 
whether  the  Gibsons  will  come  before  the  Spragues,  or 
if  old  Mr.  Raines  will  appear  again.  Each  afternoon 
about  five  o'clock,  the  more  curious  among  them  may 
be  found  in  the  vicinity  of  the  hotel,  watching  for  the 
arrival  of  the  stage,  and  the  discharge  of  its  tired  pas- 
sengers. 

"  Comin'  awful  slow,  this  year,"  remarked  Squire 
Guilford  to  his  wife,  as  he  finished  polishing  his  face 
on  the  kitchen  towel,  preparatory  to  supper.  "  Only 
two  passengers  last  night,  besides  young  Weston  and 
Rankin.  To-night  they  was  jest  one  man,  an'  him  a 
stranger,  to  boot.  Sol  Allen,  daown  t'  th'  hotel,  'lows 
it's  'count  of  th'  change  of  administration.  But  he's 
sech  a  pig-headed  Democrat,  he  lays  everythin'  from 
th'  price  o'  butter  t'  th'  change  o'  weather,  ag'in  th'  Re- 
publican party.  Is  supper  ready  ?  " 

"  Purty  near.     Ye  c'n  set  daown." 

"  Got  t'  go  over  an'  see  young  Dick,  jes'  's  soon's  I 
can,"  remarked  the  squire,  spearing  a  boiled  potato. 

"What's  yer  hurry?" 

"  Bus'ness  matters,  Mother !  Yew  wouldn't  onder- 
stand,  ef  I  told  ye." 

Mrs.  Guilford  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  expressed 
confidence  in  her  own  intellect  by  a  muttered  sound, 
composed  of  a  sniff  and  a  grunt. 


THE  STAKE  159 

"  I'll  go  'long  with  ye,"  she  said,  "  as  soon's  I  wash 
up  my  dishes.  'Twon't  take  ten  minutes." 

"  Now,  Mother !  What  do  yew  want  t'  go  f er  ? 
I've  got  some  bus'ness  t'  talk  with  Dick  an'  Rankin, 
an'  we  don't  want  no  women  'round." 

"  Not  even  th'  widder  ?  "  inquired  Mrs.  Guilford,  sar- 
castically. 

"  Th'  widder !     I  sh'd  say  not." 

"  She'll  be  there  jes'  th'  same,"  continued  Mrs.  Guil- 
ford. 

"  Then  we'll  hev  t'  go  out  in  th'  barn  er  some'eres." 

"  But,  Ezry !  Ye  mustn't  stand  aroun'  in  th'  night 
air,  so  soon  arter  thet  attack  o'  rheumatiz." 

The  squire  grunted  disdainfully,  and  helped  himself 
to  another  slice  of  ham. 

"  Ef  I  went  along  with  ye,  Ezry,  I  c'd  sort  o'  keep 
th'  widder's  mind  busy  with  sunthin'  else."  Mrs.  Guil- 
ford insinuated  this  last  remark  with  ingenious  persua- 
sion, and  the  squire  finally  consented  that  they  go  to- 
gether to  Weston's. 

"  Ezry !  Hev  ye  noticed  th'  widder  lately  ?  Seen 
anythin'  strange  about  her  goin's-on  ?  " 

The  squire  looked  up  in  blank  surprise. 

"Goin's-on!"  he  said.    "What  goin's-on?" 

"Hain't  yew  seen  it?  Waal,  men  air  blind,  sure 
'nough." 

"  Speak  up,  Mother ! "  said  the  squire,  complacently. 
"  Ef  ye've  got  any  gossip  concealed  about  yer  pusson, 
let  it  out  'fore  it  blisters  ye.  What's  Mis'  Briggs  been 
a-doin'  now  ?  " 

Mrs.  Guilford  looked  about  her  cautiously ;  then  plac- 


160  THE  STAKE 

ing  her  hand  beside  her  mouth,  and  giving  a  duck  for- 
ward across  the  table,  she  whispered  loudly : 

"  Mr.  Rankin !  " 

"  Eh ! "  exclaimed  the  squire,  laying  down  his  knife 
and  fork,  and  staring  doubtfully  at  his  wife.  "  What 
about  Rankin  ?  " 

"  She's  arter  him." 

"No!" 

"Yes!     Sure's  I  live." 

Guilford  burst  into  a  hearty  laugh,  and  tipped  back 
in  his  chair. 

"  Rankin  an'  th'  widder !  "  he  cried.  "  Waal,  thet  is 
a  joke.  What  makes  ye  think  so  ?  " 

"  I  seen  it  goin'  on  th'  time  he  was  here  before,  an' 
now  she's  tryin'  fer  him  ag'in." 

"  Waal,  thet  does  beat  th'  Dutch ! "  exclaimed  the 
squire,  slapping  his  leg  emphatically. 

Mrs.  Briggs  was  not  disposed  to  view  with  any  de- 
gree of  satisfaction  the  arrival  of  Mrs.  Guilford,  when, 
an  hour  later,  that  estimable  woman,  accompanied  by 
her  husband,  appeared  at  the  Weston  home.  The  sug- 
gestion that  they  retire  to  the  best  room,  and  leave  the 
men  to  themselves  in  the  sitting-room,  found  no  fa- 
vorable response  in  the  widow's  breast.  She  continued 
to  rock  contentedly,  while  she  kept  her  eye  fixed  on 
Rankin,  and  her  ear  open  to  catch  each  word  of  the 
conversation.  In  vain  Mrs.  Guilford  discussed  the 
latest  news  of  the  village,  or  the  condition  of  the  crops, 
or  the  recent  arrivals  at  the  hotel.  She  received  only 
short  replies,  and  but  slight  attention. 

Meanwhile  the  squire,  trusting  to  his  wife  to  hold  in 


THE  STAKE  161 

check  the  widow,  was  trying  to  convey  by  signs  and 
mutterings,  that  he  had  important  news  to  tell  to  Ran- 
kin  and  his  young  friend. 

"  Supposin'  we  stroll  out  t'  th'  barn,"  he  said,  after 
waiting  in  vain  for  a  movement  on  the  part  of  his  usu- 
ally tactful  wife. 

"  Jes'  's  you  say !  "  remarked  Rankin,  good-naturedly. 

"  Mr.  Rankin ! "  exclaimed  the  widow,  sharply. 
"  Hev  yew  f ergot  thet  cold  in  yer  head  ?  'Tain't  safe 
t'  go  aout  arter  sundown." 

Rankin  looked  sheepishly  at  Guilford,  while  the  latter 
gazed  out  of  the  window,  and  whistled  softly.  Dick 
Weston,  who  was  examining  some  papers  at  a  desk  in 
the  corner,  took  in  the  situation  in  a  glance  over  his 
shoulder,  and  laughed  quietly  to  himself. 

"  Perhaps  the  ladies  would  retire,"  he  said,  "  if  the 
squire  has  anything  private  he  wishes  to  say  to  Mr. 
Rankin." 

The  two  men  looked  at  each  other  and  nodded  ap- 
provingly. But,  if  they  thought  to  be  rid  of  the  widow 
so  easily,  they  were  very  much  mistaken. 

"  Thet's  the  same  as  sayin'  '  ye  ain't  wanted,' "  she 
exclaimed.  "  I  s'pose  it's  a  perlite  way  o'  gittin'  red  o' 
folks,  but  it  ain't  th'  way  I  wuz  brought  up." 

She  rocked  more  violently  than  ever,  and  sniffed  her 
disapproval  of  the  suggestion,  but  gave  no  indication 
of  yielding. 

Weston,  from  the  gloom  of  his  corner,  was  secretly 
amused  at  the  discomfiture  of  the  two  elder  men,  and 
the  blank  look  of  helplessness  on  Mrs.  Guilford's  face, 
after  this  dramatic  outburst  from  Mrs.  Briggs. 


162  THE  STAKE 

The  squire  fidgeted  in  his  chair  for  a  moment,  and 
then  burst  out : 

"  'Tain't  anythin'  t'  make  sech  an  all-fired  fuss  abaout. 
I  jes'  wanted  to  tell  ye,  Rankin,  that  they's  a  man  in 
taown  lookin'  fer  ye." 

"Lookin'  fer  me?"  exclaimed  Rankin.  "Well,  let 
him  look.  I  don't  care  now." 

He  turned  to  Dick  and  added  in  a  lower  tone : 

"  One  of  them  fellers.  He's  trailed  me  here.  We'll 
hev  a  look  at  him  when  he  comes." 

"  Nice  spoken  feller,"  remarked  the  squire.  "  As'd 
me  a  lot  o'  questions." 

"  I'll  bet  he  couldn't  beat  yew." 

Guilford  smiled. 

"  He  didn't  git  much  information  out  of  me.  As'd 
ef  yew  was  here,  an'  how  long  sence  Dick  Weston  died, 
an'  who  was  his  heirs.  But  I  didn't  let  on  that  I 
knowed  much.  Said  I  heerd  yew'd  been  here.  Tol' 
him  Dick  Weston  died  two  months  ago,  an'  the  executor 
of  his  will  hed  been  a-lookin'  fer  heirs  ever  sence. 
Then  he  said  '  Who's  the  executor  ? '  '  Ezry  Guilford,' 
says  I.  '  Is  he  at  Atherton's  Cove  now  ? '  says  he. 
'No!'  says  I." 

"  Why,  Ezry !  "  interrupted  Mrs.  Guilford.  "  Haow 
could  yew  tell  a  lie  ?  " 

"  'Twan't  no  lie,  Mother.  It  was  gospel  truth.  I 
wan't  at  Atherton's  when  I  tol'  him,  was  I?  I  was 
on  th'  road  from  Oldfield." 

Mrs.  Guilford  looked  doubtful,  and  Mrs.  Briggs  ex- 
pressed her  opinion  by  a  sharp  sniff.  Rankin  laughed 
aloud  and  slapped  his  knee  with  delight. 


THE  STAKE  163 

"  You're  a  good  one,  Squire,"  he  shouted.  "  Did  ye 
find  out  who  he  was  ?  " 

"  Yew  bet  I  did.  He  give  me  his  card.  Here  it  is. 
Yew  read  it,  I  ain't  got  my  specs." 

"  Edgar  Willoughby  Travis,  Attorney  at  Law,  Bos- 
ton, Mass.,"  read  Rankin  deliberately. 

"  Travis !  "  exclaimed  Weston,  rising  hastily  and  tak- 
ing the  card  from  Rankin's  hand.  "  Travis !  Where 
have  I  heard  that  name  before?  Oh,  yes,  I  remember 
now." 

He  stood  silent  for  a  moment,  as  he  recalled  the 
room  in  Mrs.  Carson's  house,  when  the  doctor  and  his 
fair  hostess  gossiped  carelessly  about  the  supposed  en- 
.gagement  of  Ned  Travis  and  Louise  Ellsworth.  "  This 
must  be  the  very  man,"  he  thought.  "  Strange,  that 
he  should  be  here  at  Atherton's  Cove.'' 

"  Here  it  is ! "  suddenly  exclaimed  Mrs.  Briggs,  who 
had  been  searching  through  a  black  silk  bag  which  hung 
from  her  waist.  "  Here's  th'  card.  Ain't  that  th'  same 
name  ?  " 

She  handed  to  Weston  an  exact  duplicate  of  the  card 
he  was  holding. 

"Where  did  you  get  this?"  he  inquired,  bewildered 
by  this  new  bit  of  evidence. 

"  He  left  it  here  a  month  ago.  That's  th'  man  I  told 
ye  about,  Squire  Guilford,  an'  yew  jes'  sneered  at  me 
as  if  it  wan't  nothin'  important.  I  knew  then  they  wuz 
sunthin'  at  th'  bottom  of  it,  but  I  kep'  my  own  counsel, 
seein'  's  others  as  should  be  friendly  to  widders  an'  or- 
phans, would  give  no  heed  t'  my  words." 

",You  say  this  man,  Travis,  was  here  a  month  ago, 


164  THE  STAKE 

Mrs.  Briggs?"  demanded  Weston.  "What  did  He 
want?" 

"  Oh,  yes !  That's  jes'  th'  way.  One  minute  ye  want 
to  git  red  o'  me,  an'  th'  nex'  minute,  when  ye  need 
me—" 

"  Come,  Mrs.  Briggs,"  interrupted  Weston  sharply. 
"  Please  answer  my  question.  What  did  this  man  want, 
when  he  called  a  month  ago  ?  " 

Rankin  and  Guilford  exchanged  glances,  and  nodded 
approvingly,  as  if  commending  the  young  man's  cour- 
age. Mrs.  Guilford  sat  upright,  and  gazed  blankly  at 
Mrs.  Briggs.  The  widow,  recognizing  in  the  nephew 
a  tone  of  authority  which,  on  rare  occasions,  his  uncle 
had  used  towards  her,  dropped  back  into  her  chair  with 
a  subdued  expression  on  her  face. 

"  He  as'd  for  Mr.  Weston,"  she  said  meekly.  "  An' 
I  tol'  him  he  wuz  dead  an*  buried.  Then  he  as'd  if  he 
left  a  son,  an'  I  said  no  he  didn't.  Then  I  as'd  him  in, 
an'  he  said  how  sorry  he  wuz  fer  me  in  my  affliction, 
an'  he  would  leave  his  card,  in  case  I  needed  any  legal 
advice  any  time.  Oh!  he  was  a  very  nice  gentleman." 

"  Is  that  all  he  said  ?  "  inquired  Weston. 

"  Yes.  Of  course,  they  wuz  things  he  said  which 
wuz  private  between  us.  I  s'pose  ye  wouldn't  ask  me 
t'  repeat  that." 

Dick  turned  to  the  squire. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  this?  "  he  said.  "  The  fel- 
low is  working  at  some  scheme.  He  hasn't  come  up 
here  twice,  without  some  definite  purpose.  Does  he 
know  I  am  here  ?  " 

"  He  jes'  as'd  if  Mr.  Rankin  wuz  here.    Didn't  say 


THE  STAKE  165 

nothin'  'baout  yew,  but  he's  a  lawyer  chap,  an'  I  jeclge 
he's  sharp,  so  mebbe  he  knows  more'n  we  think." 

"  Well,  for  the  present  don't  tell  him  I'm  here.  I 
want  to  find  out  what  he  is  after.  I  never  saw  him  and 
he  doesn't  know  me.  If  we  happen  to  meet  him,  you 
might  call  me  —  Bill  Jenkins.  That's  the  name  I've 
been  going  under  the  past  month." 

There  was  a  rap  at  the  door.  Mrs.  Briggs  uttered  a 
shriek,  and  Mrs.  Guilford  clutched  the  sides  of  her 
chair  convulsively. 

"  Land  sakes !  "  she  cried.     "  Whut  next?  " 

"  I'll  go  t'  th'  door,"  said  Rankin.  "  Yew  women- 
folks act  as  scairt's  a  gun-shy  setter." 

He  went  into  the  hall,  opened  the  door,  and,  from 
within,  they  could  hear  a  low  conversation.  Then  there 
were  footsteps,  and  Rankin  ushered  a  stranger  into  the 
circle. 

"  Mr.  Travis  of  Boston ! "  he  announced. 

"  This  here  is  Squire  Guilford,  an'  this  is  his  lady. 
The  other  lady  you've  met  before." 

Travis  shook  hands  with  the  squire,  bowed  to  the 
ladies,  and  then  turned  inquiringly  to  Weston. 

"My  friend,  Bill  Jenkins!"  said  Rankin. 

Weston  came  forward,  and  held  out  his  hand,  which 
Travis  grasped  cordially. 

"  Glad  to  make  your  acquaintance,  Mr.  Jenkins.  By 
the  way!  Man  of  your  name  down  in  Boston,  had  a 
bad  accident  awhile  ago,  and  some  friends  of  mine 
were  interested —  What!  You  don't  mean  that  you 
are  the  same  man  ?  " 

"  Yes !  "  replied  Weston. 


166  THE  STAKE 

"  Well,  this  is  a  strange  meeting.  I've  heard  Mrs. 
Carson  tell  about  you,  and  Dr.  Stewart  was  talking 
about  you  only  the  day  before  yesterday.  I  thought 
you  were  in  the  hospital." 

"  I  was  until  yesterday.  My  friend,  Mr.  Rankin, 
persuaded  me  to  come  up  here  with  him." 

"  Thought  a  leetle  salt  air  an'  country  cookin*  'ud  do 
him  good,"  remarked  Rankin,  offering  Travis  a  chair. 

Weston  seated  himself  again  in  the  farthest  corner 
of  the  room,  determined  to  be  a  listener,  and  to  take 
as  little  part  as  possible  in  the  conversation.  Mean- 
while, Travis,  with  diplomatic  skill  offered  his  first  at- 
tentions to  the  ladies.  After  reminding  Mrs.  Guilford 
that  it  was  a  beautiful  evening,  he  turned  to  Mrs. 
Briggs,  and  remarked  with  the  air  of  an  old  acquaint- 
ance: 

"  And  how  have  you  been  since  I  last  saw  you,  Mrs. 
Weston?" 

The  widow  sat  upright  with  a  startled  look,  and 
gasped.  Mrs.  Guilford  politely  hid  her  smile  behind 
her  handkerchief,  but  the  squire,  with  a  loud  guffaw, 
cried  out: 

"  Hey !  Stranger !  Yer  off  yer  bearin's  there.  Yer 
talkin'  t'  th'  Widder  Briggs." 

"  Briggs  ?  "  exclaimed  Travis,  in  surprise.  "  I  un- 
derstood the  lady  to  say,  when  I  was  here  a  few  weeks 
ago,  that  she  was  the  widow  of  the  late  Mr.  Richard 
Weston." 

"  I  never  said  so,"  piped  Mrs.  Briggs  at  the  top  of 
her  shrill  voice.  "  True  an'  honest,  Mis'  Guilford,  I 
never  said  nothin'  o'  th'  kind." 


THE  STAKE  567 

The  woman  appeared  so  abashed  before  the  accusing 
looks  of  the  squire  and  his  wife,  that  Travis  hastened 
to  interpose. 

"  My  mistake,"  he  said.  "  When  you  spoke  of  Mr. 
Weston's  widow,  I  naturally  assumed  that  you  were 
the  lady  in  question." 

"  See  here,  stranger !  "  laughed  Guilford.  "  Yer  git- 
tin'  tangled  wuss'n  ever.  Dick  Weston  never  hed  no 
widder,  'cause  fer  th'  reason  he  never  hed  no  wife." 

Travis  looked  at  the  speaker  blankly,  and  then  did 
the  only  thing  he  could  under  the  circumstances.  He 
joined  in  the  laugh,  with  the  remark,  that  he  "  was  cer- 
tainly very  stupid  to  so  misunderstand  her,"  while  Mrs. 
Briggs  in  her  discomfiture,  hastily  left  the  room,  fol- 
lowed by  Mrs.  Guilford. 

"  I  was  here  at  the  time,"  continued  Travis,  "  looking 
for  a  young  man  named  Dick  Weston,  who  lived  on  an 
island  not  far  from  here.  When  I  heard  that  a  man 
of  the  same  name  lived  in  this  house,  naturally  I  sup- 
posed there  was  some  relationship  between  them." 

"  They  were  related,"  interrupted  Weston. 

"  Oh,  you  knew  him,  did  you  ? "  inquired  Travis, 
turning  to  the  new  speaker. 

"  Yes.  The  man  who  lived  here  was  my  uncle.  The 
other  man  was  his  nephew." 

"Ah!  Then  you  are  a  relative.  Perhaps  you  can 
tell  me  where  the  younger  Richard  Weston  is  now  ?  " 

"  He  came  here  soon  after  his  uncle's  death,"  replied 
Dick,  "  stayed  a  few  days,  and  then  disappeared.  Isn't 
that  so,  Squire?  You  were  here  at  the  time." 

"  Yes.     Oh,  yes !    That's  th'  way  of  it,"  stammered 


168  THE  STAKE 

the  squire  in  some  confusion.  He  was  not  sure  what 
all  the  mystery  was  about,  but  he  was  bound  to  stand 
by  his  friends. 

Indeed,  Dick  Weston  himself  hardly  knew  the  rea- 
son for  his  efforts  to  mislead  and  confuse  this  very 
gentlemanly  young  fellow  —  a  man  of  his  own  age, 
and  apparently  an  agreeable  companion.  Perhaps  it 
was  the  unpleasant  memory  of  the  association  of  his 
name  with  Louise  Ellsworth ;  perhaps  it  was  the  desire 
to  obtain  a  technical  advantage  by  discovering  the  man's 
purpose,  before  he  revealed  his  identity. 

"  I  have  been  trying  to  trace  your  relative,"  added 
Travis,  "  and  thought  I  had  found  him.  By  the  way, 
Mr.  Rankin,  do  you  know  a  Mrs.  Foster?" 

"  Nope.    Don't  recollect  any  pusson  o'  thet  name." 

"  She  keeps  a  boarding-house  in  Boston,  and  — " 

"  Oh !    You  mean  the  place  — " 

Rankin  paused  in  some  embarrassment,  uncertain  of 
the  extent  of  Travis's  knowledge,  and  fearful  of  betray- 
ing Dick. 

"  The  place  where  Dick  Weston  boarded,"  said  that 
young  gentleman,  finishing  the  response  to  the  lawyer's 
inquiry. 

"  Ah !  "  said  Travis,  again  turning  to  Weston.  "  Then 
you  knew  where  he  lived.  Perhaps  you  can  tell  me 
where  he  is  now." 

"  Perhaps  I  could,"  responded  Weston.  "  But  first 
I  would  like  to  know  why  you  are  seeking  him." 

"  In  the  interest  of  my  client,  Senator  Ellsworth," 
was  the  prompt  response.  Then  observing  that  Rankin 
and  the  squire  had  stolen  from  the  room,  he  added : 


THE  STAKE  169 

"  This  man,  Weston  —  your  cousin,  I  suppose  —  per- 
formed some  service  for  the  senator;  in  fact,  advanced 
some  money  for  him,  under  peculiar  circumstances. 
The  senator  is  very  anxious  to  cancel  the  debt.  It's  a 
simple  business  matter.  Nothing  at  all  mysterious 
about  it." 

"  Pardon  my  curiosity,"  said  Weston.  "  Would  you 
mind  telling  me  the  nature  of  the  service  for  which 
your  client  feels  under  obligation  ? " 

Travis  studied  the  speaker's  face  intently  for  a  mo- 
ment, as  he  recalled  Dr.  Stewart's  remarks  about  his 
singular  patient,  and  his  suspicion  that  he  was  other 
than  he  really  seemed.  With  professional  alertness, 
he  watched  for  some  betrayal  by  word  or  sign,  and, 
meanwhile,  with  an  air  of  indifference,  he  remarked : 

"  There's  no  secret  about  it.  You  must  have  read 
of  it  in  the  papers.  Your  friend,  Dick  Weston,  aided  a 
young  lady  in  distress  —  Senator  Ellsworth's  daughter. 
She  was  in  a  shipwreck,  and  he  had  something  to  do 
with  helping  her  to  shore,  and  paid  her  railroad  fare 
home.  Naturally,  she  and  her  father  are  anxious  to 
return  what  they  owe  him,  and  also  give  him  some  suit- 
able reward  for  his  services." 

"  What  value  in  money  — "  said  Weston  in  a  low, 
tense  voice.  "  What  value  in  money  did  Miss  Ells- 
worth place  upon  his  services  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  replied  Travis.  "  No  amount  was  stated.  It 
was  left  to  me  to  settle." 

"  How  about  five  dollars  ?  "  inquired  Weston. 

"  Five  dollars  would  certainly  be  a  satisfactory  set- 
tlement for  my  client,  if  that  will  satisfy  Mr.  Weston." 


i;o  THE  STAKE 

Travis  spoke  with  studied  indifference  as  he  watched 
the  pale,  set  face  of  the  man  before  him. 

Weston  turned  to  the  desk  and  wrote  upon  a  piece  of 
paper : 

"Received  from  Miss  Louise  Ellsworth  five  dollars 
in  full  payment  for  my  services. 

"  RICHARD  ELROY  WESTON." 

"  Please  give  this  to  Miss  Ellsworth,"  he  said,  hand- 
ing the  paper  to  Travis. 

The  lawyer  read  it  through  carefully,  slightly  raised 
his  eyebrows,  folded  the  receipt  and  put  it  in  his  pocket. 

"Very  well,  Mr.  Weston,"  he  said.  "And  here's 
your  five  dollars." 

Weston  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  taking  the  bill 
from  the  lawyer's  hand,  he  said  with  a  forced  laugh : 

"  Travis,  you're  a  cool  one.  You  knew  me  all  the 
time." 

"  No.     I  only  suspected." 

"  Well,  you've  accomplished  your  mission.  Miss 
Ellsworth  need  suffer  no  further  anxiety  on  account  of 
any  fancied  obligation  to  me." 

The  two  men  rose  to  their  feet,  and  the  lawyer  held 
out  his  hand. 

"  Good  night,  Mr.  Weston.  I  expect  to  spend  a  few 
days'  vacation  in  this  lovely  spot,  and  may  have  the 
pleasure  of  meeting  you  again." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

WHEN  Louise  Ellsworth  and  Mrs.  Carson,  accom- 
panied by  Dick,  arrived  at  the  station,  they  were 
vexed  to  find  that  a  new  schedule  had  placed  the  time 
of  departure  of  the  morning  train  for  the  north,  a  half- 
hour  later  than  usual. 

"  There  ought  to  be  some  law  against  changing  time- 
tables so  often,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Carson  indignantly. 

"  Very  sorry,  Madam,"  replied  the  courteous  official. 
"  The  new  schedule  was  advertised  all  last  week,  and 
went  into  effect  only  yesterday." 

"  But  no  one  reads  the  time-tables,  and  I'm  sure  if  I 
did,  I  couldn't  make  them  out,"  continued  the  pretty 
widow,  illogically. 

She  had  yielded  to  Louise's  persistent  teasing,  and 
had  consented  to  accompany  her  to  Atherton's  Cove,  as 
companion  and  chaperon. 

"  I  am  sure  I  shall  die  of  ennui,"  she  had  said.  "  But 
if  it  will  be  any  gratification  to  you,  dear,  I  am  willing 
to  make  the  sacrifice." 

"  You  are  just  lovely,  Belle,"  replied  Louise.  "  Per- 
haps a  day  will  be  enough  for  me.  It  is  curiosity  as 
much  as  anything  which  takes  me  there.  I  may  find 
nothing  of  interest." 

"  When  you  get  an  idea  in  that  romantic  brain  of 
yours,"  said  Mrs.  Carson,  "  it's  hard  to  displace  it.  It's 


172  THE  STAKE 

a  strange  freak  of  yours  to  want  to  find  this  man.  In 
some  girls  it  would  seem  foolish,  but  I  know  your  fan- 
tastic sentiments  of  justice  and  honor  and  that  sort  of 
thing.  My  only  excuse  for  consenting  to  this  mad  ex- 
cursion, is  that  I  may  disabuse  your  mind,  and  do  you 
and  your  family  a  real  service." 

A  reluctant  consent  is  sometimes  as  good  as  a  ready 
one,  so  Louise  had  lost  no  time  in  making  her  prepara- 
tions, with  the  result  that  they  arrived  in  haste  at  the 
station,  only  to  find  that  they  had  a  full  half -hour  to 
wait. 

The  most  annoying  feature  of  railroad  travel  is  the 
tedious  waiting  for  the  arrival  or  departure  of  trains. 
When  once  we  are  started  on  our  journey,  delays, 
though  often  inconvenient,  are  not  so  exasperating  as 
the  tiresome  time  spent  in  a  station,  with  a  crowd  of 
grumblers,  watching  the  clock,  and  demanding  the  latest 
information  from  officials,  whose  patience  is  rarely  ap- 
preciated. 

Mrs.  Carson  had  embarked  upon  this  expedition  with 
so  little  enthusiasm,  that  this  first  hitch  in  the  pro- 
gramme irritated  her  usually  placid  disposition.  Her 
tone  became  resentful  and  pettish.  Louise,  on  the  con- 
trary, was  disposed  to  make  fun  of  the  delay  and  her 
friend's  ill-humor. 

"  Come,  dear !  "  she  said.  "  Let's  go  outside.  It's 
so  noisy  and  smelly  in  here.  Come,  Dicky !  You  and 
I  will  go,  and  mamma  will  have  to  follow." 

Out  on  the  broad  walk  in  front  of  the  station,  they 
strolled  up  and  down,  while  Dicky's  merry  prattle,  and 
Louise's  fresh  spirits  soon  drove  all  the  bad  humor  out 


THE  STAKE  173 

of  Mrs.  Carson's  mind,  leaving  her  as  unruffled  and 
sweet-natured  as  ever. 

"  Louise,"  she  said  with  a  twinkle  in  her  eye, — 
after  they  had  passed  and  repassed  the  entrance  to 
the  depot  several  times, — "  either  you  or  I  have  made 
a  new  conquest.  Don't  turn  your  head.  Standing 
near  the  main  door  of  the  depot  are  two  men  who 
have  been  eyeing  us  as  we  passed  them,  and  appar- 
ently trying  to  attract  our  attention.  I  think  I'll  re- 
tire and  leave  the  field  to  you." 

Louise  could  not  resist  a  side  glance  in  the  direction 
indicated,  and  observed  two  very  odd-looking  indi- 
viduals who  seemed  to  be  watching  her  closely.  One 
of  them,  a  thick-set  man  with  bushy  red  whiskers, 
nodded  to  her  familiarly,  and  his  mouth  expanded  into 
a  broad  grin,  which,  with  a  bright  twinkle  in  his  eye, 
brought  back  to  Louise's  memory  the  gallant  captain 
of  the  Mary  Boyle.  With  an  exclamation  of  sur- 
prise and  pleasure,  she  went  towards  him  with  out- 
stretched hand. 

"  Captain  Appleby !  How  glad  I  am  to  see  you 
again." 

"  So  be  I  t'  see  yew,"  replied  the  captain,  giving 
her  hand  a  vigorous  squeeze. 

"  Let  me  introduce  my  friend,  Mrs.  Carson,"  said 
Louise,  beckoning  that  lady  to  her  side.  "  Belle,  this 
is  Captain  Appleby  who  saved  my  life." 

"  There  now,  Miss,  asking  yer  pardon,  ye're  wrong. 
It  was  Bill  here  as  done  th'  savin'.  Ladies,  make  ye 
'quainted  with  my  fust  mate,  Bill  Jenkins." 

Bill,  who  appeared  to  be  in  distress,  both  on  account 


174  THE  STAKE 

of  an  embarrassment  of  ladies,  and  also  on  account  of 
a  new  suit  of  clothes,  including  a  high  collar,  scraped 
his  right  foot,  touched  his  hat,  and  gazed  intently  at 
the  cornice  of  the  building  opposite. 

"  Jenkins ! "  exclaimed  both  ladies  at  once,  while 
Dicky,  looking  on  in  disgust,  was  heard  to  remark: 

"Oh!    What  a  fib!" 

"  Did  I  understand  that  your  name  is  Bill  Jenkins  ?  " 
inquired  Mrs.  Carson. 

"  Yes,  mom." 

"  That's  strange.  I  know  a  young  gentleman  of  the 
same  name.  Have  you  a  son,  Mr.  Jenkins  ? " 

"  No,  mom." 

After  which  conversational  effort,  he  eased  his  neck 
from  the  tyranny  of  the  collar,  and  wiped  his  moist 
brow  with  a  new  red  silk  handkerchief. 

"  Bill  never  lied  no  kin,"  remarked  Captain  Ap- 
pleby,  apologetically.  "  'Cept  o'  course  his  mother. 
The  ol'  lady  lives  'bout  forty  mile  up  this  'ere  rail- 
road. He  tried  to  git  her  t'  come  down  t'  Boston, 
but  she  wouldn't  do  it.  So,  he's  goin'  up  t'  see  her, 
ef  th'  railroad  ever  gits  him  there.  Be  yew  goin'  on  this 
road?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Louise,  looking  at  her  watch.  "  The 
train  leaves  in  ten  minutes,  so  we'll  have  to  get  aboard 
soon.  Here's  my  card,  Captain  Appleby,  with  my  ad- 
dress. I  hope  some  time  you  will  call  and  meet  my 
father  and  mother.  They  want  to  see  you  and  thank 
you  for  your  kindness  to  me.  And  you,  too,  Mr. 
Jenkins.  I've  not  forgotten  that  it  was  you  who  came 
to  my  rescue." 


THE  STAKE  175 

"  Arter  yer  young  man,  Miss,"  said  Bill.  "  He  done 
th'  most." 

"  Yes,"  exclaimed  the  captain.  "  We  mustn't  fer- 
git  him.  I  never  seen  a  man  work  as  he  did.  How 
is  he  ?  Ev'rythin'  all  fixed  up  atween  ye  ?  Eh  ? " 

He  chuckled  and  grinned  in  a  knowing  way,  and 
even  ventured  a  wink,  expressive  of  a  secret  under- 
standing. 

"  You  refer  to  Mr.  Weston  ? "  said  Louise,  blush- 
ing furiously,  and  trying  to  speak  with  indifference. 
"  I  haven't  seen  him  since  the  day  we  left  the  ship. 
We  were  strangers,  you  know." 

The  captain  stared  blankly  and  turned  with  a  sheep- 
ish expression  on  his  face,  towards  Bill,  who  nodded 
his  head  complacently,  and  said: 

"Wot  did  I  tell  ye!" 

"  I'll  own  up,  I  was  fooled,"  remarked  the  captain, 
shaking  his  head.  "  I  was  fer  havin'  it  ye  was  sweet- 
hearts, an'  Bill  was  bettin'  ye  wan't.  It  wan't  so  much 
yew  as  it  was  the  young  feller  as  fooled  me.  Any- 
body would  ha'  thought  he  was  clean  gone.  So  he  give 
ye  th'  slip,  did  he?  Waal,  I  think  a  sight  less  of  him 
fer  it." 

Mrs.  Carson,  who  was  enjoying  the  captain's  story, 
and  her  friend's  embarrassment,  here  interposed  with 
a  reminder  that  it  was  time  to  take  the  train,  and 
Louise,  glad  to  escape  any  further  sentimental  rem- 
iniscences on  the  part  of  the  captain,  said  good-by, 
followed  her  friend  into  the  station,  and  entered  the 
parlor  car. 

"  I  quite  admire  your  friend,  Bill  Jenkins,"  remarked 


176  THE  STAKE 

Mrs.  Carson,  after  the  porter  had  disposed  of  the 
various  pieces  of  luggage,  and  they  were  comfortably 
seated.  "  Isn't  it  odd  that  you  should  have  been  saved 
by  one  Bill  Jenkins,  and  Dicky  by  another." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Louise.    "  Are  they  at  all  alike  ?  " 

"  My  Bill  Jenkins  was  a  perfick  gentleman,"  re- 
marked Dicky,  withdrawing  his  face  for  a  moment 
from  the  open  window.  "  Martha  said  so." 

With  which  authoritative  statement,  he  returned  to 
the  panorama  caused  by  the  moving  train. 

"  Which  infers,"  said  his  mother,  laughing,  "  that 
your  Mr.  Jenkins  doesn't  come  up  to  the  standard  fixed 
by  Martha." 

"  He's  a  brave,  honest  fellow,"  replied  Louise.  "  A 
little  rough,  perhaps,  but  good  hearted.  One  tiling  is 
sure, —  he  saved  my  life." 

"  He  very  modestly  gave  the  other  man  credit  for 
it,"  said  Mrs.  Carson.  "  Tell  me  how  it  all  happened, 
Louise.  I've  heard  so  many  versions  of  the  story,  I'd 
like  to  have  the  facts." 

"  It  isn't  easy  for  me  to  tell  it,"  replied  Louise,  gaz- 
ing pensively  out  of  the  window.  "  My  memory  is 
rather  confused  as  to  the  events  of  those  three  days." 

"  I  know  about  the  dreadful  time  you  had  when  the 
Ellisons  and  the  rest  of  the  party  were  lost,"  continued 
Mrs.  Carson,  "  and  I  have  been  told  about  your  trying 
experiences  with  that  man  on  his  island.  By  the  way, 
Louise,  what  kind  of  a  man  was  he?  I've  heard  him 
described  as  a  wild  creature;  —  a  sort  of  a  hermit  or 
recluse." 

Louise  laughed  heartily. 


THE  STAKE  177 

"  I  think  mamma  must  have  started  that  story.  Her 
imagination  pictured  all  kinds  of  terrors,  in  which  poor 
Mr.  Crusoe  figured  as  some  ogre  or  demon.  To  tell 
the  truth,  I  can  say  with  Dicky;  —  he  was  a  perfect 
gentleman." 

"How  old  was  he?" 

"About  twenty-five,  I  should  say." 

"Tall?" 

"  Yes.     Nearly  six  feet." 

"Handsome?" 

Louise  hesitated,  and  then  replied  with  a  little 
nervous  laugh: 

"  I  suppose  some  people  would  call  him  handsome." 

"  You  are  provokingly  reticent.  One  would  think 
that  you  were  more  interested  in  him  than  you  care  to 
admit." 

"  There  is  nothing  to  conceal,"  replied  Louise.  "  I 
have  said  very  little  about  the  adventure,  because  I 
knew  I  should  be  misunderstood." 

She  rested  her  head  against  the  back  of  the  seat, 
closed  her  eyes,  and  tried  to  recall  the  scenes  of  those 
three  eventful  days.  As  her  memory  brought  back 
the  picture  of  the  lonely  island  and  the  man  who  had 
been  her  companion  there,  she  told  the  story  to  her 
friend.  It  seemed  to  be  a  relief  to  her  to  confide  to 
this  woman,  only  a  few  years  her  senior,  many  inci- 
dents and  impressions,  which,  up  to  this  time,  she  had 
hesitated  to  tell  even  to  her  mother. 

Mrs.  Carson  listened  with  parted  lips  and  sparkling 
eyes,  as  Louise  related  the  story  of  her  rescue,  of  the 
unavoidable  intimacy  of  the  life  in  the  cabin,  of  the 


i;8  THE  STAKE 

delicate  courtesy  and  solicitous  attention  which  the  un- 
known stranger  had  shown  her, —  all  this  she  told  with- 
out embellishment,  but  in  a  voice  which  frequently 
trembled  with  emotion.  When  she  came  to  the  story 
of  the  experience  in  the  boat,  she  shuddered  and  the 
tears  came  into  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  it  was  terrible !  I  thought  each  moment  would 
be  the  last,  and  the  worst  of  it  was,  I  knew  that  my 
own  obstinacy  had  brought  us  into  such  a  plight.  You 
can't  imagine  how  he  had  to  work,  now  at  the  tiller,  now 
at  the  mast,  now  springing  to  one  side  to  balance  the 
boat,  and  between  times  bailing,  bailing,  bailing,-  while 
the  sea  poured  in  as  fast  as  he  dipped  it  out.  Through 
it  all  he  kept  calling  to  me,  and  once  I  heard  him  laugh 
aloud.  Just  before  my  senses  left  me,  he  came  to 
my  side  and  tried  to  rouse  me;  then  I  seemed  to  be 
falling  into  space  and  to  hear  him  calling  my  name; 
then  everything  became  blank.  When,  at  last,  I  opened 
my  eyes,  I  saw  his  face  bending  over  me,  and  heard 
him  say,  '  We  are  saved.'  The-  next  thing  I  knew,  I 
was  lying  in  the  bunk  in  the  schooner,  with  Captain 
Appleby  and  Mr.  Weston  standing  by  my  side." 

She  stopped  and  brushed  the  tears  hastily  from  her 
eyes,  and,  turning  to  her  companion,  she  exclaimed 
with  a  forced  laugh : 

"  I  declare,  Belle !  You  have  inveigled  me  into 
telling  you  this  harrowing  and  romantic  tale,  when 
I  had  firmly  resolved  never  to  betray  it  to  anyone. 
Most  people  are  inclined  to  make  fun  of  such  an  ex- 
perience, or  to  start  idle  gossip  from  it.  It  was  all 
too  real  for  me  to  spread  it  out  for  the  gaping  public 


THE  STAKE  179 

to  feast  upon.  Put  yourself  in  my  place,  Belle,  and 
you  will  understand  how  I  feel  about  it." 

Mrs.  Carson,  whose  eyes  were  blinking  with  emo- 
tion and  sympathy,  took  Louise's  hand  in  hers,  and  said 
earnestly : 

"  Louise  Ellsworth !  If  I  had  been  in  your  place,  I 
should  have  fallen  desperately  in  love  with  that  man." 

"  With  whom  ?  Mr.  Crusoe  ? "  inquired  Louise 
saucily.  But  her  cheeks  were  very  red  and  she  sud- 
denly found  something  to  attract  her  attention  out  of 
the  window. 

"  With  Mr.  Weston." 

"  Oh !  My  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Weston  was  lim- 
ited to  a  very  formal  introduction.  Besides,  Mr.  Wes- 
ton has  disappeared." 

"  Do  you  suppose  I  am  foolish  enough  to  think  you 
are  going  to  Atherton's  Cove,  for  an  outing  only  ?  You 
know  you  are  going  to  try  to  find  some  trace  of  this 
man." 

"Well,  what  if  I  am?"  cried  Louise  defiantly.  "Is 
it  any  breach  of  decorum,  if  I  try  to  show  one  spark 
of  gratitude  to  the  man  who  saved  my  life;  who  pro- 
tected me  and  cared  for  me  when  I  was  helpless  and 
alone?  No  one  else  will  do  it.  Mr.  Travis  professed 
to  be  trying  to  find  him,  but  only  the  other  night  I  over- 
heard papa  tell  him  to  give  up  the  search,  and  devote 
his  time  to  some  other  work  —  hunting,  I  suppose,  for 
that  poor  fellow  whose  land  they  are  trying  to  get. 
Now,  Belle,  dear,  please  don't  get  any  romantic  notions 
in  your  head.  Mr.  Weston  may  be  married  or  engaged 
for  all  I  know.  If  I  thought  you  believed  me  capable 


i8o  THE  STAKE 

of  deliberate  man-hunting,  I  would  go  home  by  the 
next  train." 

"  You  haven't  told  me  yet  if  he  is  handsome,"  said 
Mrs.  Carson. 

"  He  was  not  —  unattractive,"  replied  Louise  re- 
luctantly. 

"  Did  he  —  do  you  think  —  oh,  Louise !  Do  you  sup- 
pose that  he  is  in  love  with  you  ?  " 

"  Belle  Carson,  you  would  try  the  patience  of  a  saint. 
What  a  ridiculous  question." 

She  crossed  over  and  sat  beside  Dicky,  putting  her 
arm  about  him,  and  her  head  beside  his  at  the  open 
window. 

"  What's  the  name  of  this  station,  Dicky  ?  " 

"  New  York,"  was  the  prompt  response. 

"  Oh,  no.     It  can't  be  New  York." 

"If  you  knowed  what  it  was,  you  shouldn't  have 
asked  me,"  pouted  Dicky. 

"  But  I  don't  know." 

"  Then  maybe  it  is  New  York." 

"  It's  good-by  town,  now,"  she  said,  as  the  train 
started. 

During  the  remainder  of  the  journey,  Louise  avoided 
all  reference  to  the  former  conversation,  and  Mrs.  Car- 
son, still  unconvinced  as  to  the  true  state  of  affairs, 
kept  her  own  counsel,  and  bided  her  time. 

It  was  with  a  feeling  of  relief  that  they  finally  alighted 
from  the  train,  even  though  it  left  them  upon  the  bar- 
ren and  inhospitable  platform  of  Oldfield  station.  The 
agent,  constrained  by  the  presence  of  ladies  to  retain 
the  regulation  coat  and  cap,  perspiringly  rolled  the  heavy 


THE  STAKE  181 

trunks  to  the  rear  of  the  building,  where  Guilford  and 
his  stage  already  awaited  passengers  for  Atherton's 
Cove. 

"  Two  women  an'  a  boy,"  he  remarked  to  the  squire, 
as  he  assisted  him  with  the  trunks.  "  An'  thet's  all. 
This  way,  ladies !  Here,  sonny,  yew  c'n  set  in  front  with 
th'  square.  Now,  ma'am,  ef  yew'll  jes'  step  in  th'  mid- 
dle seat.  There !  All  right,  Square !  Good-by !  " 

"Good-by,  Ab!" 

The  stage  rattled  down  the  road,  and  while  the  two 
ladies  were  enjoying  the  fresh  air,  and  the  country 
scenes,  Dicky  proceeded  to  establish  an  acquaintance 
with  the  squire. 

"Is  your  name  square?"  he  inquired,  looking  up 
earnestly  into  the  weather-beaten  face  of  the  driver. 

"  Square  it  is,  's  sure's  you're  alive,"  was  the  reply. 
"  My  father  was  straight,  an'  my  mother  was  right,  an' 
so  I'm  square.  Do  ye  see  ?  Eh  ?  " 

Back  of  the  homely  visage  there  could  be  seen  the 
twinkling  of  humor,  and  the  boy  knew  instinctively  that 
he  had  found  a  boon  companion. 

"  Do  you  always  talk  to  your  horses  ? "  inquired 
Dicky. 

"  Yes,  sir !  We  visit  back  an'  forth  consid'ble.  Th' 
trouble  is,  they  don't  say  much  'cept  '  neigh,  neigh.' " 

''  Do  you  allow  little  boys  to  drive  them,  ever?" 

"  I'd  love  to  let  ye  do  it,"  replied  the  squire  in  a 
low,  hoarse  voice,  "but  ef  them  hosses  sh'd  happen  t' 
look  'raound,  an'  find  out  thet  I  hed  let  somebody  else 
drive  'em,  I  don't  know  what  they'd  do.  It  might  break 
their  hearts." 


182  THE  STAKE 

Dicky  looked  at  the  sensitive  animals  with  solemn 
sympathy. 

"  Say,  Mr.  Square ! "  he  said.  "  Do  you  want  me 
to  tell  you  a  story  ?  " 

"  De-lighted ! "  exclaimed  the  squire,  smiling  good- 
humoredly. 

"  Dicky,  don't  bother  the  driver,"  cried  Mrs.  Car- 
son. 

"  He's  no  bother,  ma'am,"  said  Guilford,  chuckling  to 
himself. 

"  Well,"  began  Dick.  "  Once  upon  a  time  there  was 
a  boy,  and  he  was  walkin'  along,  an'  walkin'  along,  an' 
he  came  to  a  big  lion." 

"  Whew !  "  interrupted  the  squire.  "  Thet  must  ha* 
scairt  him  awful !  " 

"  Yep !  He  was  awful  scared,  an'  he  ran,  an'  he  ran 
as  fast  as  he  could,  an'  the  lion  ran  after  him,  roaring 
like  a  —  like  a  —  lion.  An'  by  'm  by  the  boy  ran  into 
a  cave,  and  when  he  came  to  the  end  of  the  cave,  of 
course  he  couldn't  go  any  farther." 

"  No,  of  course  he  couldn't ! "  said  the  squire.  "  So 
I  suppose  th'  lion  et  him  up." 

"  No,  he  didn't.  When  the  boy  found  he  couldn't  go 
any  farther,  he  turned  around,  and  there  was  the  lion 
right  behind  him  with  his  mouth  open  wide,  ready  to 
eat  him.  An'  what  do  you  s'pose  the  boy  did  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.     Tell  me  quick." 

"  Well ! "  said  Dicky,  deliberately,  enjoying  the  look 
of  anxious  terror  on  the  squire's  face.  "  That  boy 
jumped  right  down  the  lion's  throat,  an'  grabbed  his  tail, 
an'  just  turned  him  inside  out,  as  quick  as  scat." 


THE  STAKE  183 

"  Fer  th'  land's  sake !  "  exclaimed  the  squire,  beaming 
with  pleasure.  "  Ye  don't  say  he  did  that  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir!  An'  the  lion  had  a  awful  time  getting 
hisself  straight  again." 

"  Thet's  th'  best  story  I've  heerd,  sence  I  was  a  boy," 
said  the  squire.  "  Where'd  you  git  it?  " 

"  Bill  Jenkins  told  it  to  me." 

"Bill  Jenkins?" 

"  Yes.  Not  the  sailor-man.  The  other  one  that  I 
pretty  near  killed." 

"  Oh !  That  one !  "  replied  the  squire,  blankly,  and 
then  sat  for  a  time  in  silence. 

Dicky,  delighted  with  everything  he  saw,  was  bub- 
bling over  with  exclamations  and  questions,  to  which 
the  ladies  paid  little  attention,  while  the  squire,  absorbed 
in  some  deep  contemplation,  responded  somewhat  inco- 
herently. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Square !  "  cried  the  boy.  "  Look  quick ! 
There  are  two  cows  with  their  necks  tied  together." 

"  Yoke  o'  steers,"  said  the  squire, 

"What  for?" 

"  Fer  haulin'." 

"Oh!" 

A  hen  with  her  brood  of  chickens  scurrying  out  of 
the  road,  brought  forth  a  peal  of  laughter.  A  couple 
of  grunting,  squealing  pigs  thrust  their  noses  through 
a  barn-yard  fence,  and,  in  response  to  the  boy's  shrill 
yell,  turned  tail  and  ran  clumsily  away.  A  meadow- 
lark  sang  from  the  waving  grass.  A  brown  thrush 
darted  into  the  bush  by  the  roadside.  From  fence- 
post  and  overhanging  limb,  the  blackbird  warbled  his 


184  THE  STAKE 

flute-like  notes.  It  was  a  perfect  June  day,  and  the 
joyfulness  of  all  nature  entered  into  Dicky's  heart. 

"  Oh !  I  wish  I  could  live  in  the  country,"  he  cried. 

"  They's  wuss  places,"  remarked  Squire  Guilford, 
eyeing  the  boy  with  an  amused  expression  on  his  face. 
"  Say,  sonny !  Who'd  ye  say  told  ye  th'  story  'baout 
th'  lion?" 

"  Bill  Jenkins.  He  was  the  man  who  stayed  at  our 
house  while  he  was  sick." 

"  To  be  sure.  Was  it  measles  he  hed?  Or  whoopin' 
cough  ?  " 

"  No.  Just  sick.  You  see,  he  got  hurted  —  I  tried 
to  get  my  ball  —  but  it  was  Aunt  Louise's  coachman  — 
she  felt  pretty  near  as  bad  as  mamma  —  that's  why  he 
stayed  at  our  house  'til  he  was  better." 

"  Driver,  how  much  farther  is  it  ? "  interrupted  Mrs. 
Carson. 

"  'Baout  a  mile  —  mile  an'  a  half.  Ye  c'n  see  th'  vil- 
lage from  th'  top  o'  th'  next  hill." 

As  they  reached  the  crest  of  the  ridge,  Guilford 
reined  in  his  horses  as  usual,  in  order  to  give  his  pas- 
sengers an  opportunity  to  enjoy  the  famous  view.  It 
was  characteristic  of  the  two  ladies  that  the  one  went 
into  ecstasies,  and  exclaimed  loudly  over  the  beauty  of 
the  scene,  while  the  other  enjoyed  it  with  silent  de- 
light. 

"  Louise,  this  is  perfectly  charming.  Why  didn't  we 
know  of  it  before?  It's  a  grand  discovery;  a  new  re- 
sort. Is  there  a  good  hotel  here,  driver  ?  " 

"  Fair  t'  middlin'." 

"  We  must  make  up  a  party  to  come  here  next  month. 


THE  STAKE  185 

Driver,  is  there  a  way  to  get  to  this  place  by  steamer?  " 

"  No,  ma'am.  Not  reg'lar.  Too  many  rocks  an' 
shoals." 

"  Are  any  of  those  islands  we  see  inhabited? "  asked 
Louise. 

"  Islands !  They's  mostly  rocks.  Can't  nobody  live 
on  'em.  I  hed  a  friend  oncet,  who  built  a  cabin  on  one 
of  'em.  You  see  thet  one  lyin'  low  ag'in  th'  horizon. 
Thet's  th'  place.  He  was  a  queer  chap,  was  Dick." 

"  Why,  that's  my  name !  "  cried  Dicky. 

"  You  don't  say  so ! "  replied  the  squire,  starting  up 
as  from  a  reverie.  Then  gathering  the  reins,  he  cried : 

"  G'  lang,  there !    We've  got  t'  be  a-movin'." 

The  jolting  of  the  stage  as  it  rattled  down  the  rocky 
road,  towards  the  village,  prevented  any  further  con- 
versation, until,  as  they  drew  up  in  front  of  the  hotel, 
Dicky  ventured  to  ask  one  more  question. 

"  What  was  your  Dick's  other  name  ?  " 

"  Eh !  "  said  the  squire.    "  What's  yours?  " 

"  Dick  Carson." 

"  His  was  Dick  Weston." 

"  How  funny.     Is  he  a  boy  like  me  ?  " 

"  No,  my  son.     He's  dead,  an'  gone  t'  heaven." 

Louise,  who  had  heard  the  conversation,  gave  a  low 
cry,  and  turned  a  scared  white  face  towards  Mrs.  Car- 
sen. 

"  Oh !  Can  it  be  possible  that  he  is  dead  ?  "  she  said 
in  a  plaintive  voice. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  said  the  squire,  as  he  assisted  Mrs. 
Carson  to  alight  from  the  stage.  "  He  died  last  April, 
in  th'  sixty-ninth  year  of  his  age.  Now,  Miss !  You're 


186  THE  STAKE 

next.  Don't  be  scairt.  Jes'  lean  on  me.  Why,  you're 
all  of  a-tremble.  There  ye  are!  Here,  Dave,  take 
these  bags,  an'  come  back  an'  help  me  with  th'  trunks." 

"  This  is  an  unexpected  pleasure,"  cried  a  familiar 
voice. 

The  two  ladies  turned  in  surprise. 

"  Ned  Travis !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Carson. 

"  At  your  service,"  replied  that  young  gentleman, 
smiling  serenely. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

(C'VT'E'LL  find  him  settin'  on  th'  front  stoop,"  said 
•*•  Mrs.  Briggs  in  response  to  Travis's  inquiry,  as 
he  politely  held  open  the  gate  for  her.  "  He's  been 
kind  o'  poorly  lately.  Hed  a  bad  accident  daown  in 
Boston.  We  thought  'twould  do  him  good  up  here, 
but  he  ain't  feelin'  right  t'day, —  kind  o'  mopish,  an'  out 
o'  sorts." 

"  You  must  try  to  cheer  him  up,  Mrs.  Briggs,"  said 
Travis. 

"  Oh !  I  can't  do  nothin'  with  him,"  confided  the 
widow,  with  a  shake  of  her  head.  "  I  ain't  goin'  t' 
push  myself  in  where  I  ain't  wanted.  They  was  times 
when  I  seemed  t'  be  able  t'  comfort  his  uncle,  but  this 
one  is  different." 

She  gazed  mournfully  down  the  street,  torn  by  con- 
flicting desires  to  reach  Simpson's  store  before  it  closed, 
and  to  remain  where  she  could  learn  something  of  the 
purpose  of  Travis's  call. 

It  was  the  evening  after  the  arrival  of  Miss  Ellsworth 
and  her  companion,  and  Travis,  after  assuring  himself 
that  they  were  provided  with  the  best  rooms  in  the 
house,  and  that  he  could  be  of  no  further  service  to 
them,  had  started  out  after  supper,  to  renew  his  acquaint- 
ance with  Dick  Weston,  and  incidentally  to  begin  di- 
rect operations  for  the  capture  of  the  Michigan  land. 


i88  THE  STAKE 

He  had  not  been  idle  during  the  day.  The  absence  of 
rail  and  telegraph  made  it  difficult  for  him  to  communi- 
cate with  the  outside  world,  but  the  same  conditions 
also  prevented  others  from  disturbing  him  in  his  secret 
campaign.  He  congratulated  himself  that  he  had  a 
clear  field.  A  telephone  line  to  the  county  seat  en- 
abled him  to  learn  the  contents  of  the  will  of  the  elder 
Weston.  Letters  to  Wayne,  and  Ellsworth,  informed 
them  that  he  had  run  his  man  to  earth,  and  that  another 
day  would  probably  see  the  deal  closed. 

The  long  June  evening  was  still  bright  with  the  reflec- 
tion of  the  setting  sun,  as  he  sauntered  up  the  village 
street,  mildly  interested  in  the  groups  of  neighbors,  vis- 
iting over  gates,  or  the  fresh-cheeked  country  girls, 
dressed  in  pretty  white  muslins,  who  glanced  slyly  at 
the  stylish  young  city-bred  gentleman,  and  giggled  bash- 
fully as  he  smilingly  raised  his  hat  to  them. 

The  object  of  his  expedition  —  the  one  great  absorb- 
ing thought  of  his  waking  and  sleeping  hours  for  the  past 
three  weeks  —  drove  out  of  his  mind  all  more  frivolous 
thoughts.  He  made  no  pause  or  delay  until  he  arrived 
at  the  gate  which  opened  into  the  broad  walk,  leading 
away  from  the  dusty  street,  back  through  a  cool  vista 
of  overhanging  elm  and  clustering  lilac-bushes  to  where 
stood  the  substantial  and  attractive  home  of  six  gen- 
erations of  the  Weston  family. 

"Has  he  always  lived  here?"  inquired  Travis,  ob- 
serving the  widow's  inclination  to  linger,  and  not  averse 
to  getting  information  from  a  source  so  willing  to  yield 
it. 

"  Who  ?    Young   Mr.   Weston  ?    Land,   no !    Never 


THE  STAKE  189 

lived  here  at  all.  He  jes'  come  here  arter  his  uncle 
died,  t'  git  th'  prop'ty.  Never  paid  no  attention  to  his 
uncle,  while  he  was  livin',  but  jes'  's  soon's  he  died,  up 
he  come.  Th'  ways  of  th'  Lord  are  hard  to  under- 
stand." 

She  sighed  and  drew  her  black  silk  cape  close  about 
her  narrow  shoulders. 

"  Was  there  much  property  ?  "  asked  Travis,  trying 
to  appear  sympathetic. 

"  Consid'ble.  Th'  haouse  an'  th'  farm,"  she  said  with 
a  tone  of  regret  in  her  voice.  "  Then  they  was  bank 
stock  an'  notes." 

"  Any  other  land  beside  the  farm  ?  " 

"  None  t'  speak  of.  They  was  an  island  out  a  piece 
from  shore.  Ye  c'n  see  it  from  th'  hill.  Jest  a  big 
rock,  an'  good  fer  nothin'.  I  heerd  'em  say  sunthin' 
'baout  some  wuthless  land  aout  in  th'  West  some'eres." 

"  I'm  afraid  I'm  detaining  you,"  said  Travis,  willing 
to  terminate  the  interview. 

"  Waal,  t'  tell  th'  truth,  I  hev  got  an  errand  t'  do, 
an'  it's  gittin'  late,  so  if  you'll  excuse  me,  I  b'lieve  I'll 
hev  t'  go." 

"  Sorry  you  can't  stay,"  said  Travis,  disregarding  the 
truth,  and  lifting  his  hat  politely. 

Mrs.  Briggs  tilted  her  head  upon  one  side,  and  pro- 
duced her  most  engaging  expression  of  countenance, 
which  consisted  in  stretching  her  closed  lips  to  their 
fullest  extent,  and  squinting  her  eyes  to  their  narrow- 
est limits.  Then  with  a  little  mincing  gait,  she  went  on 
down  the  street,  leaving  Travis  smiling  thoughtfully,  as 
he  turned  towards  the  house. 


190  THE  STAKE 

"  Good  evening,  Weston,"  cried  he,  familiarly,  as  he 
approached  the  broad  porch  where  that  young  gentle- 
man sat  alone,  apparently  engrossed  in  deep  thought. 
"  I  heard  that  you  were  not  feeling  well,  so  I  thought 
I  would  run  in  and  see  how  you  were  getting  along." 

Weston  greeted  his  guest  courteously,  but  without 
enthusiasm,  and  ignoring  his  inquiry,  invited  him  to 
take  a  seat. 

Undaunted  by  the  coolness  of  his  reception,  Travis 
plunged  into  general  conversation,  with  such  ease  and 
good  humor,  that  Weston  was  forced  out  of  his  depres- 
sion, and  compelled  to  join  in  with  his  mood. 

"  This  is  a  delightful  place  to  spend  a  month  or  two 
of  summer,"  said  the  young  lawyer,  "  but  it  must  be  a 
desolate  place  in  winter." 

"  I  can't  say  as  to  that,"  replied  Weston.  "  I've  never 
been  here  in  the  winter." 

"  That's  so.  I  forgot.  So  Mrs.  Briggs  told  me  just 
now.  I  met  her  at  the  gate  as  I  came  in,  and,  when  I 
asked  if  you  were  home,  she  spun  off  a  page  or  two  of 
your  family  history,  and  would  be  talking  yet,  if  I  hadn't 
escaped." 

Weston  gave  a  short  laugh. 

"  I'm  afraid  her  opinion  of  me  was  not  very  flattering. 
She  was  my  uncle's  housekeeper,  and  rather  resents 
my  being  here." 

"  I  judged  from  her  remarks  that  she  doesn't  find  you 
as  tractable  as  the  old  gentleman,"  said  Travis. 

"  My  uncle  was  more  patient  than  I,"  replied  Weston 
gravely.  "  He  was  a  man  of  unusually  kind  disposi- 
tion." 


THE  STAKE  191 

"  So  I  have  heard,"  remarked  Travis,  quietly. 

For  a  moment  they  sat  in  silence,  and  there  came  to 
each  of  them  a  new  feeling  of  respect  for  the  other. 
Strangers,  both  interested  in  the  same  woman,  the  one 
intent  on  carrying  out  a  deep-laid  plan,  the  other  sus- 
picious of  his  purpose ;  they  yet  recognized  the  bond  of 
good-fellowship  which  draws  together  men  of  equal 
minds,  equal  breeding,  and  equal  attainments.  . 

"  By  the  way,  Travis,"  said  Weston,  drumming  nerv- 
ously with  his  fingers  on  the  arm  of  his  chair,  "  I  wish 
you  would  do  me  a  favor." 

"  With  pleasure." 

"  You  made  a  discovery  last  night.  For  some  rea- 
son, unknown  to  me,  your  friend,  Mrs.  Carson,  and  — 
and  her  friends,  got  an  idea  that  my  name  was  Bill 
Jenkins.  I  never  told  them  so.  My  conscience  is  clear 
on  that  point.  But  for  the  present,  I  would  rather  not 
have  them  learn  their  mistake.  You  are  the  only  one 
who  might  betray  me.  I  want  you  to  promise  to  say 
nothing  about  it  to  anyone  —  especially  to  —  Miss  Ells- 
worth." 

"  All  right,  I  promise,"  replied  Travis  with  a  shrug. 
"  But  why  Miss  Ellsworth  in  particular  ? "  and  he 
glanced  keenly  at  Weston. 

Weston  looked  out  and  away  to  where  the  last  rays 
of  the  sun  touched  with  crimson  the  fleecy  clouds  which 
floated  above  the  hills.  For  a  moment  he  did  not  an- 
swer, then,  turning  to  his  companion,  he  said : 

"  Miss  Ellsworth  has  been  disturbed,  you  know,  by 
her  fancied  obligation  to  me.  If  she  knew  that  I  am 
the  same  person  as  the  man,  Jenkins,  for  whose  injury 


I92  THE  STAKE 

she  blames  herself,  it  might  add  to  her  distress.  Be- 
sides, it  would  embarrass  me." 

Travis  observed  him  intently  for  a  moment. 

"  Weston,"  he  said,  "  that  must  have  been  a  queer 
experience  you  had  with  Miss  Ellsworth.  I'd  like  to 
hear  about  it.  She  would  never  tell  anybody  the  par- 
ticulars." 

"  You'll  never  learn  them  from  me,"  replied  Weston 
rudely,  and  then  apologized  by  saying  that  there  had 
been  too  much  fuss  made  about  it,  and  it  irritated  him 
to  discuss  the  subject. 

"  Let  me  see,"  said  Travis.  "  That  island  was  part 
of  the  property  you  inherited  from  your  uncle,  wasn't 
it?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Weston,  eyeing  him  suspiciously. 
"  How  did  you  know  that  ?  " 

"  From  that  fount  of  all  information,  Mrs.  Briggs. 
She  told  me  that  your  uncle  was  fond  of  buying  out-of- 
the-way  pieces  of  land  of  little  or  no  value,  just  to 
gratify  some  whim  of  his." 

"  Yes,  he  was  a  lover  of  solitude,  and  wanted  to  with- 
draw from  society  at  times,  and  live  alone.  It  was  a 
strange  fancy,  and  yet,  do  you  know,  it  appeals  to  me. 
That's  why  I  went  out  to  the  islatid  that  time,  and  spent 
the  night  there;  —  just  to  enjoy  that  very  feeling  of 
isolation." 

"  I  suppose  that's  why  he  bought  the  land  out  West, 
that  Mrs.  Briggs  says  is  worthless.  By  the  way,  Wes- 
ton, where  is  it?  Western  lands  are  up  now." 

"  This  land  is  up  —  up  on  the  map.  Lies  in  the  ex- 
treme northern  part  of  Michigan.  Principally  rocks 


THE  STAKE  193 

and  scenery,  although  Rankin  seems  to  think  there  may 
be  copper  there." 

"  Copper !  "  exclaimed  Travis.  "  Copper !  Why, 
man !  It  may  be  worth  something,  after  all.  Why 
don't  you  offer  it  for  sale  ?  Copper  is  in  great  demand 
at  present." 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  haven't  the  least  idea  what 
it's  worth.  Rankin  has  some  plan  for  leasing  it  to  a 
mining  company  which  is  operating  on  land  adjoining 
it.  You  must  remember  that  all  this  came  to  me  like 
a  bolt  from  the  blue,  only  two  months  ago,  and  that 
since  then  I  have  been  practically  out  of  commission. 
Then,  too,  the  estate  isn't  closed.  Guilford  is  the  ex- 
ecutor of  the  will.  I  have  given  no  thought  to  the  mat- 
ter." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  you  ought  to  do,  Weston,"  said 
Travis  eagerly.  "  You  ought  to  offer  the  land  to  the 
National  Copper  Co.  They  are  buying  up  all  the  prop- 
erties in  that  part  of  the  country.  They  control  the 
situation  now,  and  they're  gradually  freezing  out  the 
smaller  companies.  I  wouldn't  lose  any  time,  either. 
If  you're  not  able  to  attend  to  it,  turn  it  over  to  me, 
and  I  can  run  in  to  Boston  to-morrow,  and  get  their 
figures." 

In  the  intensity  of  his  desire  to  bring  to  a  quick  con- 
clusion the  business  which  had  taxed  his  patience  and 
his  skill  for  the  past  month,  Travis  betrayed  such  un- 
usual interest  in  his  affairs,  that  Weston  became  sus- 
picious. When  the  young  lawyer  had  finished,  he  looked 
him  steadily  in  the  eye,  and  said : 

"  Travis,  are  you  in  the  employ  of  the  copper  trust?  " 


i94  THE  STAKE 

Travis  flushed.  It  was  a  difficult  situation.  After  a 
moment's  hesitation,  he  replied : 

"  In  a  sense, —  yes.     That  is  to  say,  I  — " 

"  And  you  came  here  for  the  purpose  of  inducing  me 
to  sell  this  land  to  your  clients?" 

"  They  would  like  to  buy  it,  if  it's  for  sale." 

"  I  suppose  you  expected  to  get  it  from  me  for  a 
song." 

"  No,  indeed !  I  give  you  my  word,  Weston,  I  had 
no  such  intention.  I  don't  know  any  more  than  you 
do  what  the  land  is  really  worth.  Nor  does  anybody, 
in  fact.  It's  merely  a  prospect." 

Weston  looked  at  his  companion  with  a  frown. 

"  As  far  as  I  am  concerned,"  he  said  slowly,  "  the 
National  Copper  Co.,  or  the  Copper  Trust,  or  whatever 
name  they  use  for  their  purposes,  would  never  have  one 
inch  of  advantage  from  me.  In  fact,  I  would  go  out  of 
my  way  to  thwart  them,  if  I  could.  But,  in  this  par- 
ticular instance,  I'll  just  turn  you  over  to  the  tender 
mercies  of  Mr.  Rankin.  You  may  deal  with  him.  He 
knows  what  the  land  is  worth,  and  I'll  give  him  full  au- 
thority to  fix  the  price  and  sell  to  whom  he  pleases." 

"  Can  I  see  him  to-night  ?  "  asked  Travis,  eagerly. 

"  I  wish  you'd  put  it  off  until  to-morrow.  I'll  have  to 
explain  the  matter  to  him  first.  To  tell  you  the  truth, 
Travis,  this  little  tilt  with  you  has  set  my  battered  head 
throbbing,  and  I'll  have  to  quit  talking." 

Travis  rose  immediately,  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Pardon  my  thoughtlessness,"  he  said.  "  I'll  go  now, 
and  we'll  take  this  up  again  to-morrow.  I  hope,  Wes- 
ton, you  haven't  put  me  off  your  list  entirely.  I'd  be 


THE  STAKE  195 

sorry  to  lose  your  good  opinion.  I  went  into  this  thing 
professionally,  you  know.  My  best  efforts  always  go 
to  the  men  I  am  serving,  but  I  always  intend  to  be 
straight  about  it." 

"  I  don't  doubt  it,"  replied  Weston,  rising.  "  But 
you'll  find  it  hard  work  to  be  honest,  and  satisfy  that 
gang  of  wolves." 

"  By  the  way,"  he  added.  "  I  thought  you  said  you 
came  here  at  Miss  Ellsworth's  request,  to  search  for 
me." 

"  That  was  the  truth.  She  commissioned  me  long 
ago  to  hunt  for  you  until  I  found  you." 

"  And  she  told  you  to  pay  me  —  money  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no !  I  was  to  express  her  gratitude  for  your 
kindness.  The  cash  settlement  was  from  her  father." 

"  Thank  you !  "  said  Weston  simply. 

Night  was  settling  fast,  and  lights  were  beginning  to 
twinkle  here  and  there,  as  Travis  walked  rapidly  down 
the  street,  pondering  deeply  over  the  events  of  the  day, 
and  especially  of  the  last  hour.  His  professional  repu- 
tation and  future  career  were  at  stake,  and  yet  he  found 
it  difficult  to  reconcile  his  sense  of  honor  with  his  duty 
to  his  clients.  The  probing  questions  of  the  man  he 
had  just  left,  had  challenged  his  integrity.  He  knew 
that,  from  the  standpoint  of  his  well-laid  plans,  he  had 
made  a  grievous  mistake  in  admitting  the  purpose  of  his 
visit.  Yet  there  was  a  certain  satisfaction  in  the  thought 
that  he  had  been  fair  to  Weston,  whose  strange  history 
and  manliness  of  character  appealed  strongly  to  him. 

When  he  reached  the  hotel,  he  paused  a  moment  at 
the  foot  of  the  steps  to  look  at  the  moon,  rising  full 


196  THE  STAKE 

from  the  depths  of  the  ocean,  her  great  disk  framed 
between  the  two  black  headlands  which  guarded  the  lit- 
tle harbor.  Impressed  by  the  beauty  of  the  scene,  he 
removed  his  hat  and  stood  erect,  with  head  and  shoul- 
ders thrown  back,  as  if  he  would  drink  in  the  glory  of 
the  streaming  light.  The  noise  of  a  chair,  moving  on 
the  porch  above  him,  broke  the  spell,  and  he  looked  up 
to  find  a  woman's  face  observing  him,  while  a  soft  voice 
called  down  to  him : 

"  Your  pose  is  delightfully  statuesque.  You  remind 
me  of  a  Venetian  gondolier.  Just  imagine,  if  you 
please,  that  I  am  some  Italian  beauty,  and  complete 
the  picture  by  singing  a  serenade." 

"  You  play  your  part  to  perfection,  Mrs.  Carson," 
replied  Travis,  gallantly.  "  But,  unfortunately,  I  am  a 
perfect  crow  in  my  vocal  efforts." 

"  I  have  heard  gentlemen  of  your  profession  described 
as  birds  of  another  feather,"  exclaimed  the  lady,  laugh- 
ing softly. 

"  Come,  now !  "  cried  Travis,  as  he  went  up  the  steps 
and  joined  her  on  the  piazza.  "  That  ugly  suggestion 
doesn't  go  with  this  charming  scene.  Oh !  Good  even- 
ing, Miss  Ellsworth.  You're  here,  too,  are  you?" 

He  brought  forward  another  chair,  and  lighted  a 
cigar. 

"  This  is  a  funny  place,"  he  said.  "  Nearly  every- 
body is  a  hundred  years  old.  How  did  you  enjoy  old 
Guilford,  the  stage-driver?  Isn't  he  a  remarkable  char- 
acter?" 

"  Dicky  had  him  all  to  himself,  and  we  were  not  fa- 
vored," replied  Mrs.  Carson.  "  But  you  haven't  told 


THE  STAKE  197 

us  yet  how  you  happen  to  be  staying  in  this  out-of-the- 
way  place." 

"  I  might  retaliate  by  inquiring  what  brought  you 
here.  I  have  been  smothering  my  curiosity  ever  since 
you  arrived.  My  hints  have  been  ignored.  I  have  even 
had  a  suspicion  that  you  might  be  private  detectives, 
sent  to  watch  my  movements.  But  there  is  no  use  in  my 
trying  to  conceal  anything  from  you.  I'm  here  looking 
for  a  man." 

"  Have  you  found  him?  "  asked  Louise. 

Travis  turned  towards  her,  but  her  face  was  in  the 
shadow. 

"  Yes,  I  have  found  him." 

"  Do  you  mean  —  that  you  have  found  —  Mr.  Wes- 
ton?" 

She  was  leaning  forward  now,  and  in  the  soft  light 
of  the  moon,  he  saw  the  look  of  eagerness  in  her  eyes. 

He  hesitated  a  moment. 

"Yes, —  Mr.  Weston!"  he  said,  and  then  puffed 
steadily  at  his  cigar  for  a  full  minute. 

"  Well !  "  exclaimed  the  girl,  impatiently. 

"  I  saw  him  yesterday,"  continued  Travis,  with  pro- 
voking deliberation,  "  and  gave  him  your  message.  I 
asked  him  what  expense  he  had  incurred  at  the  time  he 
assisted  you.  You  know  your  father  was  anxious  to 
have  the  account  paid.  Well,  he  insisted  that  five  dol- 
lars was  all  you  owed  him,  so  I  gave  him  the  money  and 
took  his  receipt." 

He  drew  from  his  pocket  the  slip  of  paper  which 
Weston  had  given  him,  and  handed  it  to  Louise. 

"  Here  it  is." 


198  THE  STAKE 

She  took  the  paper  mechanically,  a  little  bewildered 
by  this  sudden  termination  of  her  quest.  Without  any 
definite  plan  or  purpose,  her  intention  had  been  to  see 
Weston;  if  possible,  to  thank  him;  to  renew  the  ac- 
quaintance. His  indifference  piqued  her,  and,  as  she 
thought  of  the  advances  she  had  made,  she  began  to  re- 
gret the  impulse  which  had  led  her  to  Atherton's  Cove. 

"  I'm  glad  I  found  the  gentleman  at  last,"  remarked 
Travis,  carelessly.  "  It  will  relieve  your  mind." 

"  I'm  much  obliged  to  you,"  said  Louise.  "  Perhaps 
it  was  foolish  of  me  to  ask  this  of  you." 

"  Don't  think  for  a  moment  that  I  regret  my  ability 
to  serve  you,"  replied  Travis  in  a  low  voice.  "  You 
know,  Louise,  it  was  a  pleasure  for  me  to  do  this  for 
you." 

She  leaned  back  in  the  shadow  and  was  silent.  There 
came  to  her  the  memory  of  that  evening  when  she  had 
asked  him  to  find  the  man  who  had  saved  her  life,  and 
the  passionate  words  with  which  he  had  accepted  the 
charge.  Shivering  slightly,  she  drew  a  silk  scarf  about 
her  shoulders. 

"  I  owe  you  an  apology,  Mr.  Travis,"  she  said.  "  I 
thought  you  had  given  up  the  search.  That's  why  Belle 
and  I  came  here.  I  didn't  know  that  you  had  come 
ahead  of  us  on  the  same  errand.  I  understood  that  you 
had  gone  away  on  some  business  for  my  father." 

Travis  examined  the  ash  on  his  cigar,  knocked  it  off 
on  the  railing,  and  said : 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  didn't  come  here  expressly 
to  find  Weston,  although  I  have  kept  him  in  mind  con- 
stantly." 


THE  STAKE  199 

"  But  you  said  that  you  came  here  in  search  of  a 
man?" 

"  Yes,  and  strange  to  say,  in  looking  for  him,  I  found 
Weston." 

He  smiled  to  himself.  He  was  telling  the  truth,  abso- 
lutely. He  was  under  no  obligation  to  tell  of  the  singu- 
lar chain  of  circumstances,  which  centered  in  one  man 
the  identity  of  three  individuals.  Besides,  he  had  prom- 
ised Weston  that  he  would  not  betray  his  secret,  and 
that  promise  must  be  kept. 

"  Was  the  other  man  you  were  looking  for  the  poor 
fellow  who  owns  all  that  copper  land,  and  doesn't  know 
it?"  inquired  Mrs.  Carson,  who  had  been  listening  idly 
to  the  conversation  of  the  others. 

Travis  laughed  aloud.  It  was  all  such  a  good  joke, 
he  was  tempted  to  tell  the  whole  story,  but  something 
withheld  him ;  —  an  indescribable  uncertainty  as  to  his 
standing  with  Louise  Ellsworth.  He  would  not  admit 
the  possibility  of  rivalry  on  the  part  of  this  other  man, 
and  yet, —  Weston  was  not  the  obscure  fellow  he  had 
expected  to  find. 

"  You're  a  regular  sleuth,  Mrs.  Carson,"  he  said,  in 
reply  to  her  question.  "  I  am  discovered.  In  search- 
ing for  my  copper  man  I  found  Mr.  Weston,  and  in 
searching  for  Mr.  Weston,  I  found  my  copper  man. 
There  you  have  it.  You  can  read  it  backward  or  for- 
ward, it  means  the  same." 

His  ingenious  play  upon  words  amused  him.  He  was 
revealing  a  secret,  but  his  hearers  were  none  the  wiser. 
His  success  emboldened  him  to  add  to  the  mystery. 

"  By  the  way,  Mrs.  Carson,"  he  said,  "  who  do  you 


200  THE  STAKE 

suppose  is  the  owner  of  the  copper  land  we  are  trying 
to  buy?" 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know." 

"  If  I  gave  you  a  hundred  guesses,  you'd  never  hit  on 
his  name." 

"  Is  he  a  friend  of  mine  ?  " 

"  Yes.     You  certainly  have  been  a  friend  to  him." 
.    "  Tell  me.     I  am  a  failure  at  guessing  riddles." 

"  Prepare  for  a  big  surprise.  The  owner  of  the  fa- 
mous copper  land  is  your  former  guest,  Mr.  Bill  Jen- 
kins." 

"  Ned  Travis !  I  believe  you're  making  fun  of  us. 
Is  this  whole  story  you  have  been  telling  us  just  a  fic- 
tion of  your  frivolous  brain  ?  " 

"  Absolutely  true ;  every  word  of  it,"  replied  the  young 
gentleman,  unable  to  conceal  his  self-satisfaction. 

"  And  do  you  mean  to  say  that  Mr.  Jenkins  is  here  ?  " 

"  The  gentleman  whom  I  met  here  certainly  told  me  he 
was  the  Mr.  Jenkins  you  befriended  at  the  time  of  his 
accident.  You  must  remember  that  I  was  never  fa- 
vored with  an  introduction  to  your  hero." 

"  Then  how  did  you  know  him  ?  " 

"  I  was  introduced  to  him,  and  very  soon  learned  the 
truth  from  his  own  lips." 

Louise,  who  had  been  silent  for  some  time,  now  rose 
and  declared  she  was  tired  and  ready  to  go  to  her  room. 
Mrs.  Carson  followed  her  example,  and  the  two  ladies 
went  into  the  house,  leaving  the  young  man  to  his  cigar, 
and  his  thoughts,  which  were  of  a  very  self-complacent 
nature. 

When  Louise  reached  her  room,  preceded  by  a  sleepy 


THE  STAKE  201 

chambermaid,  carrying  a  lamp,  she  discovered  that  she 
still  held  in  her  hand  the  scrap  of  paper  which  Travis 
had  given  her.  Opening  it  and  holding  it  to  the  light, 
she  read : 

"  Received  from  Miss  Louise  Ellsworth  five  dollars  in 
full  payment  for  my  services. 

"  RICHARD  ELROY  WESTON." 

She  crushed  the  paper  in  her  hand  with  an  exclama- 
tion of  anger. 

"  I  was  foolish  to  expect  anything  more,"  she  mur- 
mured. "  Mr.  Crusoe  was  a  dream  —  Mr.  Weston  is  a 
—  a  reality." 


CHAPTER  XV 

NED  TRAVIS  was  a  gentleman  who  never  prac- 
ticed the  rule  of  "  early  to  bed  and  early  to  rise." 
After  the  ladies  had  retired,  he  sat  on  the  piazza  of  the 
hotel,  with  his  feet  resting  on  the  rail,  and  there  burned 
incense  to  the  pale  moon  to  the  extent  of  numerous 
cigars  and  cigarettes,  musing  and  dreaming  late  into 
the  night.  One  by  one,  guests,  clerks,  and  servants 
retired,  until  only  one  solitary  porter  remained,  who 
eyed  him  sleepily  from  the  gloom  of  the  office,  where 
but  one  lamp  cast  its  sickly  ray,  sputtering  now  and 
then,  as  if  it,  too,  were  blinking  with  sleep.  The  clock 
struck  eleven,  and  Travis  lighted  another  cigar.  The 
intense  silence  was  conducive  to  clear  thought.  The 
soft  wash  of  the  waves  along  the  beach  steadied  his 
nerves.  He  blew  rings  of  smoke  upward,  and  watched 
them  fade  away  in  the  moonlight.  The  uncertainty  of 
the  game  he  was  playing  made  it  all  the  more  interesting. 
He  had  two  objects  in  view.  One,  to  capture  for  his 
clients  the  strategic  piece  of  land,  the  possession  of 
which  was  so  important  in  their  war  against  the  "  Lucky 
Jack  Company  " ;  the  other,  to  win  the  hand  of  Louise 
Ellsworth.  The  sequence  was  logical,  for  the  success 
of  the  latter  depended  largely  upon  the  success  of  the 
former. 
The  fact  that  Louise  had  given  him  very  little  en- 


THE  STAKE  203 

couragement  thus  far,  did  not  disturb  his  plans.  He 
felt  confident  that  he  could  win  her  consent  in  time. 

"  There  is  no  one  else,"  he  said  complacently  to  him- 
self, as  he  flicked  the  ashes  from  his  cigar.  "  She  has 
never  been  interested  in  anyone." 

He  paused  a  moment  in  the  act  of  raising  his  cigar  to 
his  lips,  and  then  added : 

"  Except  this  fellow,  Weston." 

He  smoked  a  few  minutes  in  deep  meditation. 

"  She  is  certainly  interested  in  him,"  he  muttered. 
"  Inclined  to  be  romantic,  in  fact.  It's  strange  that 
both  of  the  lines  I  am  following  converge  in  this  one 
man.  He  might  prove  dangerous,  if  he  knew  the  value 
of  his  cards.  If  I  were  in  his  shoes,  I'd  hold  up  the 
syndicate  for  a  half  million  dollars,  at  least, —  and  they'd 
pay  it,  too.  As  for  Louise, —  if  I  only  had  one  small 
fraction  of  the  claim  he  has  upon  her  gratitude,  I'd  use 
it  to  the  limit." 

He  was  interrupted  by  a  strange  noise,  which  brought 
him  to  a  realization  of  his  surroundings.  He  looked 
about  him.  The  street  was  deserted;  the  long  piazza 
was  empty ;  there  was  no  sound  save  that  strange  hoarse 
groan,  which  came  to  his  ear  with  the  regularity  of 
heart-beats.  He  rose  and  entered  the  office.  In  the 
sputtering,  dying  light  of  the  lamp,  he  discovered  the 
vanquished  porter,  sound  asleep  in  a  rocker,  his  arms 
hanging  helplessly  almost  to  the  floor,  while  his  head 
lolled  and  nodded  awkwardly  up  and  down,  keeping 
clumsy  time  to  the  snores  which  sounded  harsh  and 
distressing  in  the  silence  of  the  night.  Rousing  him 
with  difficulty,  Travis  obtained  a  fresh  lamp,  and  retired 


204  THE  STAKE 

to  his  room,  just  as  the  clock  in  the  office  struck 
twelve. 

It  is  no  wonder  then,  that  the  young  attorney  was  the 
last  to  enter  the  breakfast-room  on  the  following  morn- 
ing, or  that  he  should  meet  Mrs.  Carson  and  her  son, 
just  as  they  were  leaving. 

"  Good  morning,  Mrs.  Carson ! "  he  cried.  "  You 
don't  mean  to  say  that  you  have  finished  breakfast  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed !     Some  time  ago." 

"And  Miss  Ellsworth?" 

"  Louise  didn't  come  to  breakfast.  I  have  advised 
her  to  stay  in  bed.  She  didn't  sleep  well  last  night,  and 
has  a  bad  headache  this  morning." 

"  I'm  sorry  to  hear  it.  I  had  planned  a  sail  for  to- 
day," said  Travis,  as  they  parted,  and  he  followed  a 
waiter  to  a  seat. 

When  he  came  out  on  the  piazza  a  half -hour  later,  he 
found  Master  Dicky  wandering  up  and  down  alone, 
Mrs.  Carson  was  nowhere  to  be  seen. 

"  Hello,  kid !  "  he  cried.    "  Where's  your  mother  ?  " 

"  She's  gone  to  see  Aunt  Louise.  I  can't  go  off  the 
piazza.  I  wish  somebody  would  play  with  me." 

"  All  right.     What's  the  game  ?  " 

"  Do  you  think  a  little  boy  is  a  nuisance  ?  " 

"  No.    What  put  that  idea  in  your  head  ?  " 

"  Mamma  said  so." 

"  I'm  surprised." 

"  She  said  if  you  went  sailing  on  the  water  you 
wouldn't  take  me  because  you  would  think  I  was  a  nui- 
sance." 

Travis  laughed,  as  he  drew  the  boy  up  on  his  knee. 


THE  STAKE  205 

"  Dicky,  you're  quite  a  fisherman.  If  we  go  sailing, 
you  shall  go,  too,  if  your  mother  will  let  you." 

At  this  point  in  the  conversation,  Mrs.  Carson  ap- 
peared at  the  door,  and  Dicky,  sliding  to  the  floor,  ran 
to  meet  her. 

"  He  says  I  can  go,"  he  cried,  dancing  up  and  down 
around  his  mother.  "  He  says  I'm  not  a  nuisance,  and 
I  can  go  sailing." 

Then  turning  to  Travis,  he  added : 

"  Don't  you  think  it's  a  good  time  now,  Mr.  Travis  ?  " 

"  What  does  your  mother  say  ?  " 

"  I  don't  like  to  leave  Louise,  but  now  that  you  have 
made  Dicky  one  of  the  party,  I'll  not  have  a  moment's 
peace,  so,  if  you'll  wait  until  I  get  my  parasol,  we'll  go 
out  for  an  hour." 

They  walked  down  to  the  beach,  the  boy  capering  back 
and  forth,  and  about  them,  like  a  frisky  colt.  As  they 
approached  the  wharf,  he  suddenly  darted  away  from 
them  with  a  whoop,  and  ran  towards  a  man  who  was 
standing  talking  to  "  Old  Dad,"  the  captain  of  the  minia- 
ture fleet  of  sailboats. 

"It's  my  Bill  Jenkins!  It's  my  Bill  Jenkins!"  he 
cried. 

Weston,  for  he  it  was,  turned  in  surprise,  as  the  boy 
rushed  upon  him,  and  then  he  raised  his  hat  to  Mrs. 
Carson,  who  came  forward  with  outstretched  hand. 

"  Mr.  Jenkins !  "  she  cried.    "  Is  it  really  you  ?  " 

Weston  turned  a  look  of  inquiry  upon  Travis,  who 
hastened  to  say : 

"  I  told  Mrs.  Carson  you  were  here,  but  she  wouldn't 
believe  me." 


206  THE  STAKE 

By  this  time  Weston  had  recovered  his  self-possession. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  came  up  the  other  day  to  try  a 
little  sea  air  and  the  country,  for  my  rather  dilapidated 
constitution.  You  are  the  last  person  I  expected  to  meet 
in  this  out-of-the-way  place." 

"  Did  you  think  you  could  escape  me  ?  "  she  asked. 
"  You  stole  away  from  Boston  so  secretly,  it  almost 
looked  like  flight." 

"  The  opportunity  came  unexpectedly,  and  I  had  only 
time  to  tell  Dr.  Stewart.  I  intended  to  call  on  you  be- 
fore I  left,  and  express  my  gratitude." 

Mrs.  Carson  interrupted  him  with  a  shake  of  her 
head. 

"  You've  said  enough  about  gratitude.  I  thought  we 
had  agreed  that  the  debt  was  mutual." 

Dicky,  who  had  listened  with  impatience  to  this  unin- 
teresting conversation,  here  interrupted. 

"  Can't  Mr.  Bill  Jenkins  go  sailin'  with  us,  Mamma  ?  " 

"  Were  you  going  out?  "  inquired  Weston,  turning  to 
Travis. 

"Yes.    Will  you  join  us?" 

"  Thank  you.  I  was  just  about  to  go  for  a  sail,  my- 
self. By  the  way,"  he  added,  "  I  called  to  see  you  this 
morning,  but  you  were  not  up.  I  arranged  with  Rankin 
to  meet  you  about  ten  o'clock." 

Travis  looked  at  his  watch  and  frowned. 

"  If  that's  so,  I'll  have  to  be  excused,  Mrs.  Carson. 
A  matter  of  business.  It's  too  bad  to  let  it  interfere 
with  our  fun.  Perhaps  Mr.  Jenkins  will  take  my  place." 

"  With  pleasure,"  replied  Weston,  looking  inquir- 
ingly at  Mrs.  Carson. 


THE  STAKE  207 

"  I  am  embarrassed  with  so  many  cavaliers,"  she  said, 
laughing.  "  But  you  can  see  the  decision  in  Dicky's 
eyes.  If  I  disappoint  him  this  early  in  the  day,  I  don't 
know  how  I  will  survive  until  night." 

"  Mr.  Jenkins  will  take  my  place  in  the  boat  I  or- 
dered last  night,"  explained  Travis  to  the  old  skipper, 
who,  all  this  time,  had  been  looking  on  in  bewilderment. 

"  Eh ! "  said  he,  scratching  his  head.     "  Who'd  ye 


say 


"  My  name  is  Jenkins,"  said  Western,  looking  the  old 
man  straight  in  the  eye. 

"  All  right,  sir !  Jes'  's  yew  say !  "  replied  Dad,  giv- 
ing a  hitch  to  his  trousers,  and  gazing  unconcernedly  sea- 
ward. 

"You  will  excuse  me  then,  Airs.  Carson?"  asked 
Travis.  "  I'm  awfully  sorry  this  has  happened.  But 
business,  you  know  — " 

"  It's  all  right,  Mr.  Travis.  I'm  just  as  much  obliged 
to  you."  She  gave  him  a  reassuring  smile  and  he  turned 
away. 

While  "  Dad  "  was  bringing  the  boat  alongside,  Wes- 
ton  kept  up  a  lively  conversation  with  Mrs.  Carson,  al- 
ways avoiding  any  reference  to  their  former  acquaint- 
ance, and  the  strange  events  which  had  brought  it  about. 

"  The  way  to  enjoy  sailing  is  to  go  out  for  the  day, 
and  take  your  lunch  with  you,"  he  said.  "If  you're  fond 
of  fishing,  there's  lots  of  that  kind  of  sport  about  here." 

"  Oh,  I  want  to  fish,"  cried  Dicky.  "  Mr.  Travis  said 
I  was  a  good  fisherman." 

"  You  never  fished  in  your  life,  you  silly  boy,"  laughed 
his  mother. 


208  THE  STAKE 

"  I'll  take  you  out  some  time,"  said  Weston,  "  if  your 
mother  will  let  me.  I  know  a  fine  place.  Then  you 
can  see  how  you  like  it." 

"  When  can  we  go  ?    To-day  ?  " 

"  No !  Let  me  see.  To-morrow,  if  the  weather  is 
right.  There!  I  believe  Dad  has  forgotten  the  cush- 
ions. Where  are  your  cushions,  Dad  ?  "  he  called  to 
the  skipper. 

"  Left  'em  up  in  th'  boathouse,  like  a  durn  fool," 
was  the  reply  from  the  old  sailor,  as  he  clambered  on  the 
dock,  and  drew  the  boat  alongside. 

"  I'll  get  them,"  said  Weston.  "  Come  on,  Dicky, 
and  help  me." 

"  Is  this  Mr.  Jenkins'  boat  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Carson,  as 
the  two  disappeared  in  the  little  building  which  served 
as  the  skipper's  storehouse. 

"  Who'd  ye  say,  ma'am?  "  inquired  that  worthy,  rais- 
ing his  hand  to  his  hat. 

"  Mr.  Jenkins !  Don't  you  know  him  ?  I  thought 
perhaps  he  lived  here." 

"  Never  heerd  of  —  oh !  you  mean  him  ?  "  pointing  his 
thumb  in  the  direction  of  the  boathouse.  "  No,  this 
ain't  his  boat.  He  hed  a  dory,  but  it  was  wracked  in 
th'  big  storm  las'  May,  out  by  Roger's  Island.  He  ain't 
got  a  new  one  yit." 

"  Wrecked !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Carson.  "  Was  any- 
body in  it  ?  " 

"  I  don'  know.  Leastwise  we  never  found  out.  Mr. 
Weston,  he  didn't  turn  up  for  so  long — " 

"  Mr.  Weston !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Carson.  "  I  thought 
you  said  that  Mr.  Jenkins  — " 


THE  STAKE  209 

"  Oh,  Lor' ! "  muttered  the  skipper,  as  Weston  and 
Dicky  appeared  with  the  cushions. 

"  Here  we  are,"  cried  the  former.  "  Now,  Mrs.  Car- 
son, if  you're  ready,  we'll  make  a  start." 

He  sprang  into  the  boat  and  held  up  his  arms  to  her. 
She  hesitated  a  moment,  and  looked  down  into  his  up- 
turned face.  Then  placing  her  hands  upon  his  shoul- 
ders, she  sprang  lightly  down  beside  him. 

"  Thank  you,  Mr. —  Jenkins,"  she  said,  with  a  roguish 
twinkle  in  her  eyes.  "  I  am  just  becoming  acquainted 
with  you.  What  has  become  of  the  bashful  and  awk- 
ward young  sailor  we  picked  up  in  the  streets  of  Bos- 
ton?" 

He  arranged  the  cushions  comfortably  for  her,  and 
replied  with  a  smile : 

"  Your  society  may  have  softened  a  few  of  his  rough 
manners." 

Dicky  was  next  brought  aboard  and  placed  near 
his  mother,  who  warned  him,  with  the  usual  maternal 
anxiety,  to  sit  still,  or  he  would  fall  overboard  and  be 
drowned.  Lastly,  Dad,  giving  the  boat  a  shove,  sprang 
into  the  bow,  and  hoisted  the  sail,  while  Weston  took  the 
tiller. 

"  Are  you  going  to  sail  the  boat  ?  "  inquired  Mrs.  Car- 
son. 

"  Of  course !    Who  else  ?  "  replied  Weston. 

"  I  thought  the  captain  was  to  manage  the  helm,"  she 
said,  indicating  Dad  by  a  motion  of  her  head. 

"  Not  while  I'm  aboard,"  declared  Weston,  as  he  lifted 
the  boom  over  her  head,  and  allowed  the  sail  to  catch  a 
puff  of  breeze.  "  I  love  to  feel  the  pull  of  the  line,  be  it 


THE  STAKE 

a  horse  or  a  sail  at  the  other  end.  Here  we  go !  Sit 
still!  Don't  be  afraid!" 

"  You  handle  a  boat  as  if  you  were  used  to  it,"  said 
Mrs.  Carson  after  a  brief  silence,  broken  only  by  ex- 
clamations from  Dicky. 

"  Yes,  I've  sailed  boats  ever  since  I  was  twelve  years 
old." 

"  I  should  think  it  would  be  dangerous,  sometimes." 

"  I  suppose  it  is,  but  one  never  thinks  of  it  any  more 
than  the  danger  of  riding  in  cars." 

"  Were  you  ever  wrecked  ?  " 

"  Yes.  That  is  to  say  I  —  yes,  you  would  call  it  a 
wreck." 

"Oh!  tell  me  about  it,"  cried  Dicky.  "Were  you 
cast  away  on  a  desert  island  like  Robinson  Crusoe?  " 

Weston  laughed. 

"  You  have  hit  on  the  truth,  nearer  than  you  thought, 
my  boy,"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  please  tell  me  what  you  did,"  continued  the  in- 
quisitive youngster,  and  Weston,  with  reluctance,  had  to 
relate  some  of  the  incidents  of  his  memorable  experience. 

"  I  was  on  an  island  —  a  desert  island  —  and  there 
was  a  big  storm.  By  and  by,  a  ship  came  along,  so  I 
went  out  in  my  boat,  and  the  sailors  saw  me  and  picked 
me  up." 

"  Well,  but  tell  me  about  how  you  made  clothes  out 
of  skins,  and  how  you  and  Friday  righted  the  cannibals, 
and  then  you  made  a  hut  to  live  in,  and  — " 

"  This  was  another  kind  of  a  wreck,"  interrupted  Wes- 
ton, laughing.  "  There  wasn't  any  Friday  nor  any  can- 
nibals. We  had  a  good  house  to  stay  in,  and  food  to 


THE  STAKE  211 

eat,  and  clothes  to  wear ;  so  you  see  it  wasn't  much  of  a 
story,  after  all." 

Dicky  pouted  and  kicked  his  heels  discontentedly 
against  a  locker. 

"  I  don't  think  that  was  a  very  good  shipwreck,  with- 
out any  Friday  or  any  cannibals." 

"  No,  it  wasn't,  Dicky.  I'll  try  to  do  better,  next 
time." 

"  I  notice  you  said  '  we/  so  I  suppose  you  had  a  com- 
panion/' remarked  Mrs.  Carson  casually. 

"  Yes.     I  had  a  companion." 

"  That  made  it  much  pleasanter  for  you,  of  course." 

"  Yes,  of  course." 

"  Was  your  friend  saved,  too  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

She  looked  at  him  quizzically.  His  brief  replies  to 
her  questions  added  to  her  curiosity.  The  suspicion 
which  had  been  gradually  growing  in  her  mind,  suggested 
such  possibilities,  that  she  could  not  resist  a  desire  to 
probe  into  the  secret,  which  he  seemed  to  withhold  from 
her. 

"  By  the  way,"  she  said,  "  do  you  happen  to  know  a 
Mr.  Dick  Weston,  who  lives  here  ?  " 

He  turned  to  her  with  a  start,  and  his  face  flushed 
noticeably.  Their  eyes  met  and  he  knew  in  an  instant 
that  the  shrewd  little  woman  had  guessed  his  secret. 

"  There  is  no  reason  why  I  should  conceal  it  from 
you,"  he  replied ;  "  that  is  my  name." 

They  were  silent  for  a  few  moments.  To  Weston  it 
was  a  relief  that  concealment  was  at  an  end.  There  had 
never  been  any  real  purpose  in  it,  and  he  was  ashamed 


212  THE  STAKE 

that  Mrs.  Carson,  who  had  been  such  a  friend  to  him, 
should  believe  that  he  had  willfully  deceived  her. 

"  Will  you  forgive  me,"  he  said,  abruptly. 

She  placed  her  hand  on  his,  and  he  thought  he  saw 
tears  in  her  eyes. 

"  Why  did  you  take  that  other  name  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  You  gave  it  to  me.  I  never  heard  the  name  until 
you  called  me  Mr.  Jenkins."  He  laughed  nervously. 
"  I  neither  affirmed  nor  denied.  I  was  weak  from  my 
illness,  and  —  just  a  little  blue.  I  didn't  care  much  who 
I  was,  or  whom  you  thought  me." 

"  And  it  was  you  who  saved  Louise  Ellsworth's  life !  " 
she  said,  her  eyes  shining  with  interest. 

"  Oh !  Was  Aunt  Louise  in  the  shipwreck  with 
you  ? "  cried  Dicky.  "  Why,  she  never  said  a  word 
about  it.  I'm  going  to  tell  her  I  think  she's  real  mean." 

"  I'm  afraid  the  cat's  out  of  the  bag  now,"  laughed 
Weston. 

"  Where  is  the  cat  ?  "  exclaimed  Dicky,  jumping  to  his 
feet. 

"  Here,  young  man,  you'll  go  overboard,"  cried  Wes- 
ton, catching  the  boy's  arm.  "  I'll  take  you  forward 
and  turn  you  over  to  Dad.  He  can  spin  more  yarns  than 
you  ever  heard  before." 

When  the  irrepressible  youngster  was  safely  depos- 
ited in  Dad's  care,  and  Weston  could  talk  freely  with 
his  companion,  he  told  her  many  things  which  cleared 
the  mystery  of  his  identity,  and  she,  quickly  noting  his 
easy  manners  and  evidence  of  refinement,  was  pleased 
to  have  her  good  opinion  of  him  confirmed. 

"  Really,  Mrs.  Carson,"  said-  Weston,  "  I  have  felt 


THE  STAKE  213 

ashamed  of  my  deception.  You  were  so  good  to  me, 
and  it  was  such  a  silly  thing  for  me  to  do.  But  when 
everybody  insisted  that  my  name  was  Jenkins,  I  was  too 
indifferent  to  everything  to  care  much  about  it." 

"  Did  you  know  that  it  was  the  Ellsworth  carriage 
which  struck  you  down  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes.    So  I  heard." 

"  They  were  hurrying  back  to  the  station  to  find  you." 

His  face  showed  surprise. 

"  You  didn't  know  that,  did  you  ?  "  she  said.  "  Nor 
how  anxious  Louise  was  to  find  you?  The  carriage 
drove  away  from  the  station,  before  she  realized  that 
you  were  not  with  them,  and  when  she  found  that  they 
had  left  you  behind,  she  was  very  much  disturbed  about 
it,  and  they  were  hurrying  back  when  the  accident  oc- 
curred. You  didn't  know  all  this,  did  you  ?  " 

She  was  leaning  forward  and  looking  intently  into 
his  face. 

"  No !  "  he  replied  gravely.  "  I  didn't  know  that  part 
of  the  story." 

"  And  Louise  has  been  searching  for  you  ever  since." 

"  So  Mr.  Travis  told  me." 

"  Mr.  Travis !  Yes,  to  be  sure !  He  told  her  last 
night  he  had  found  you." 

"  Is  Miss  Ellsworth  here  ?  "  asked  Weston  with  sur- 
prise. 

"  Yes,  at  the  hotel." 

"  Does  she  know  that  I  am  here  ?  " 

"  Of  course  she  does.  I  think  she  would  like  to  see 
you,  and  explain  her  neglect." 

"  It  isn't  necessary,"  said  he  gloomily. 


214  THE  STAKE 

"Why?" 

Weston  brought  the  boat  around  upon  another  tack, 
caught  the  swinging  boom,  and  carried  it  over  her  head. 

"  Will  you  change  to  the  other  side,  please,"  he  said. 

But  Mrs.  Carson  was  not  to  be  diverted  from  her 
plans. 

"You  will  call  on  us  this  afternoon?"  she  inquired 
sweetly. 

"  Thank  you !  I  hardly  think  —  I  believe  I  have  a 
business  engagement  with  Mr.  Travis  this  afternoon. 
Perhaps  I  will  call  some  other  time." 

"  Business  with  Mr.  Travis !  "  she  thought.  "  That's 
a  new  phase  in  the  situation."  Then  as  there  came  to 
her  memory  the  words  the  young  lawyer  had  spoken 
the  night  before,  she  gave  a  little  gasp,  and  clasped  her 
hands. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Jenkins !  I  mean  Mr.  Weston !  Are  you 
the  man  who  owns  those  wonderful  copper  lands  that 
Mr.  Travis  is  after?" 

There  was  an  amused  look  in  the  young  man's  face  as 
he  replied: 

"  So  you  know  about  that,  too.  What  more  have 
you  discovered  about  me  ?  I  shall  have  to  take  a  mental 
review  of  my  past  life,  and  see  if  my  record  will  bear 
inspection." 

"  Is  the  land  really  so  very  valuable  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  To  tell  the  truth  I  have  given  it  no 
thought.  My  uncle's  recent  death  has  made  me  heir 
to  his  property,  which  includes  some  land  in  Michigan. 
I  never  saw  it  nor  heard  of  it  before,  so  I  am  as  ig- 
norant as  you  are  of  its  value." 


THE  STAKE  215 

"  Mr.  Travis  tried  to  buy  it  of  you,  didn't  he  ?  "  per- 
sisted Mrs.  Carson. 

"  I  believe  he  did  make  some  kind  of  overtures  on 
the  subject,"  replied  Weston  carelessly,  as  he  prepared 
to  make  another  tack.  "  I'll  have  to  trouble  you  to 
change  to  the  other  side.  The  wind  is  falling  and  per- 
haps we'd  better  turn  back.  It's  too  hot  to  take  the 
chance  of  being  becalmed  out  here." 

"  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  what  you  are  going  to  do 
about  that  land,"  said  Mrs.  Carson,  as  she  took  the 
other  seat.  "  Perhaps  you  think  I  am  inquisitive,  but 
I  know  how  desperately  anxious  the  copper  syndicate 
is  to  obtain  this  particular  piece." 

"  Is  it  possible  that  you  are  a  member  of  that  band 
of  conspirators  ?  "  laughed  Weston.  "  How  comes  it 
that  you  are  so  familiar  with  their  plans  ?  " 

"  I  only  wish  I  could  be  included  in  the  syndicate," 
sighed  Mrs.  Carson.  "  But  they  wouldn't  let  me  in. 
Do  you  know,  if  I  were  the  head  of  the  copper  trust, 
the  first  thing  I  would  do,  would  be  to  hire  a  man 
like  Ned  Travis,  to  hunt  the  world  over  for  you,  and 
never  leave  you  until  I  had  captured  your  land.  There, 
I  wonder  if  I've  betrayed  a  secret." 

She  leaned  forward,  and  looked  up  into  his  face  with 
an  amused  smile,  and  Weston  responded  with  a  nod  of 
understanding. 

"  I  have  been  warned  already,"  said  he.  "  Mr. 
Travis  knows  by  this  time  what  he  must  do." 

"  Have  you  offered  to  sell  to  him?  " 

"  No,  indeed !  I  told  him  I  had  no  idea  of  the  value 
of  the  land,  and  couldn't  name  a  price.  Then  I  turned 


216  THE  STAKE 

him  over  to  a  man  who,  I  think,  will  be  a  match  for 
him;  Old  Bill  Rankin  —  my  uncle's  friend.  Oh, 
Travis  will  find  his  task  anything  but  easy  when  he 
tackles  him.  Let  him  try  all  his  tricks  and  his  arts, 
I'll  bet  on  Rankin  to  circumvent  him." 

"  You  mustn't  blame  Mr.  Travis.  He  is  simply  car- 
rying out  the  wishes  of  the  men  who  employ  him." 

"  But  I  can  only  reach  them  through  him,"  answered 
Weston,  bitterly.  "  As  far  as  possible  I  want  to  make 
them  suffer  in  pocket,  if  not  in  personal  discomfort. 
If  I  had  the  power  to  thwart  their  plans,  I  would  use 
it  to  the  limit.  I  care  less  for  the  advantage  to  me  in 
wealth,  than  I  do  for  the  personal  satisfaction  of  pun- 
ishing these  men." 

"  You  surprise  me,  Mr.  Weston.  Those  are  harsh 
words.  I  don't  believe  you  even  know  the  names  of 
the  gentlemen  who  form  this  syndicate." 

"  I  know  that  they  are  the  same  men  who  ruined  my 
father  and  brought  him  to  his  grave.  They  use  their 
great  combination  of  wealth  to  harass  their  fellow- 
men,  and  drive  them  into  poverty,  by  the  most  hateful 
methods;  and  they  do  not  hesitate  to  obtain  by  legal 
trickery  and  fraud,  what  they  dare  not  steal  openly." 

"  That's  a  pretty  strong  statement  to  make  of  men 
like  Senator  Ellsworth  and — " 

"  Senator  Ellsworth  ?  "  echoed  Weston. 

"  Yes.  Senator  Ellsworth.  Louise's  father.  Don't 
you  know  that  he  is  .the  real  head  of  the  syndicate? 
Of  course,  his  name  doesn't  appear  officially,  but  he  is 
the  one  who  directs  the  whole  affair." 

"  No,  I  didn't  know  that,"  replied  Weston,  and  then 


THE  STAKE  -217 

sat  in  silence  for  a  few  minutes.  "Well,  it's  out  of 
my  hands,  now,"  he  said.  "  They  must  deal  with 
Rankin." 

"  Better  bring  her  over,  Mr.  Dick,"  shouted  Dad. 
"  We  ain't  got  much  breeze  left,  an'  she's  dyin'" 

Weston  roused  himself  and  headed  the  boat  for  the 
dock,  while  Dicky,  crawling  back  to  his  mother, 
whispered  in  her  ear: 

"  Is  his  name  Dick,  too  ?  " 

"  Yes,  dear." 

The  boy  gazed  at  Weston  for  some  minutes,  with 
wide-opened  eyes,  as  if  laboring  with  a  serious  problem. 

"  Sometimes  you  are  Bill  Jenkins,  and  sometimes  you 
are  Dick,  and  I  don't  know  what  to  call  you." 

Suddenly  his  face  brightened. 

"  I'm  going  to  call  you  Robinson  Crusoe,  'cause  you 
was  shipwrecked." 

Mrs.   Carson  turned  to  Weston  with  a  laugh. 

"  That  was  the  name  Louise  gave  you  —  Mr. 
Crusoe." 

"Did  she?" 

There  was  a  look  of  unusual  interest  in  his  face, 
and  the  bright  little  woman,  quick  to  seize  the  oppor- 
tunity, said  earnestly: 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Crusoe !  She  has  told  me  the  story  of 
your  strange  experiences  together.  I  wouldn't  dare 
repeat  the  flattering  things  she  has  said  about  you. 
Will  you  come  this  afternoon  and  see  her?" 

"  I  cannot,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice. 

"Cannot?" 

He  shook  his  head  slowly. 


218  THE  STAKE 

"  It  would  only  embarrass  Miss  Ellsworth,  and  as 
for  me — " 

He  paused,  and  turned  to  her  with  a  look  of  appeal. 

"  I  mustn't  open  old  wounds,"  he  said. 

She  smiled  upon  him  encouragingly. 

"Are  they  healed?" 

"  I  fear  not." 

"  Then  come." 

"  Do  you  advise  it?  " 

"  I'm  not  going  to  say  another  word.  If  you  ignore 
my  invitation,  then  perish  in  your  folly." 

"  Hi,  thar !  What  ye  doin'  ?  "  shouted  Dad.  "  Bring 
her  'longside,  an'  hold  her  fast,  'til  I  git  ye  hitched." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

WHEN  Mrs.  Carson  returned  to  the  hotel,  she  found 
Louise  still  suffering  from  her  headache,  and  so 
said  nothing  of  her  morning  excursion  and  her  inter- 
view with  Dick  Weston. 

"  My  dear  girl !  "  she  cried,  as  she  entered  the  room 
where  Louise  was  still  stretched  upon  the  bed,  pressing 
her  hands  to  her  temples.  "  Do  you  mean  to  say  that 
you  have  had  no  breakfast?  I  shouldn't  have  left 
you." 

"  Do  you  suppose  that  you  could  get  me  some 
phenacetine  ? "  asked  the  sufferer. 

"  I'll  try.  It  is  the  first  time  I  have  ventured  from 
home  without  a  supply.  A  small  bottle  of  camphor 
is  the  only  thing  I  brought  with  me.  I'll  write  to 
Dr.  Stewart  to  send  me  a  package  of  remedies.  We 
may  need  them." 

As  the  result  of  this  decision  a  letter  was  dispatched 
that  very  day  to  Dr.  Stewart,  ostensibly  to  ask  for  his 
medical  assistance,  but  incidentally  to  acquaint  him  with 
the  discovery  of  Dick  Weston,  his  various  aliases,  and 
the  presence  of  Ned  Travis. 

That  latter  gentleman  appeared  at  lunch  in  a  state  of 
noticeable  ill  humor,  and  to  Mrs.  Carson's  attempts  at 
conversation  gave  such  little  heed,  that  she  finally  lost 
her  patience,  and  exclaimed: 


"  You  are  very  unsociable,  Mr.  Travis.  Of  course, 
I  shouldn't  expect  you  to  entertain  me,  but  as  an  ex- 
ample to  my  son,  couldn't  you  disguise  your  mood,  and 
make  believe  that  you  are  attentive  ?  " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mrs.  Carson,"  replied  Travis, 
penitently.  "  I've  been  terribly  annoyed  this  morn- 
ing, and  it  has  made  me  forgetful." 

"But  why  should  you  take  your  revenge  on  me? 
Here  I  have  been  dragged  to  this  lonely  spot,  only  to 
be  deserted  by  Louise,  who  has  a  headache,  poor  child, 
and  now  I'm  to  be  ignored  by  you  because  something 
has  annoyed  you.  Fortunately  I  have  Mr.  Weston 
to  fall  back  upon." 

"  Mr.  Weston !     Have  you  seen  him?  " 

"  Oh !  Now  you  are  interested,  are  you  ?  Did  you 
suppose  I  could  spend  an  hour  in  a  sail  boat  with  a 
young  man,  without  finding  out  all  his  secrets  ?  " 

"  Then  you  know  — " 

"  I  know  that  Mr.  Weston  and  Mr.  Jenkins  are  the 
same  person." 

"  And  he's  Mr.  Crusoe,  too,"  cried  Dicky,  pausing 
in  the  pleasing  process  of  devouring  a  dish  of  straw- 
berries and  cream.  "  And  he  and  Aunt  Louise  — " 
(another  spoonful)  "  was  shipwrecked  on  a  island, 
and — "  (the  last  berry  was  transferred  to  the  open 
mouth)  "and  —  and  I'm  goin'  to  have  'em  both  tell 
me  all  about  it." 

"Aha!  So  the  cat's  out  of  the  bag  at  last,"  said 
Travis,  with  a  shrug  of  indifference. 

"  Yes,  sir !  It  got  out  while  we  was  sailing  in  the 
boat.  Mamma,  can  I  have  some  more  strawberries  ?  " 


THE  STAKE  221 

With  a  mental  wish  that  all  cats  and  boys,  under 
ten  years  of  age,  might  be  strangled,  Travis  rose  from 
the  table. 

"  Will  you  excuse  me,"  he  said.  "  I  must  send  a 
letter  by  the  stage,  and  have  only  a  few  minutes 
left." 

Retiring  to  a  desk  in  the  office,  he  relieved  his  mind 
by  writing  the  following  letter : 

"  My  Dear  Senator: 

As  I  wrote  to  you  yesterday,  I  have  at  last  found 
my  man,  and  thought,  by  this  time,  I  would  have 
landed  him,  but  a  new  complication  has  arisen.  The 
owner  of  the  land  we  are  after,  is  a  young  fellow 
named  Weston;  an  amiable,  easy-going  chap,  who  has 
just  inherited  the  land  from  his  uncle.  He  never  saw 
it,  nor  has  he  any  idea  of  its  value.  When  I  suggested 
that  I  could  find  a  buyer  for  it,  he  seemed,  at  first,  in- 
clined to  sell.  I  tried  to  get  him  to  name  his  price, 
but  he  put  me  off,  and  finally  turned  me  over  to  that 
old  fellow  named  Rankin,  who  has  been  living  on  or 
near  the  land,  and  who  came  here  recently.  Rankin 
is  a  queer  customer;  apparently  with  little  intellect, 
but  exasperatingly  stubborn.  He  seems  to  be  sus- 
picious of  me,  and  insists  that  he  will  deal  only  with 
the  real  purchasers.  I  judge  from  his  remarks  that  he 
has  a  prejudice  against  lawyers.  So  here  I  am  in 
a  predicament.  Weston  refuses  to  deal  with  me  on 
his  own  account,  and  refers  me  to  Rankin.  Rankin, 
if  he  will  sell  at  all,  insists  on  selling  direct  to  the 
buyer.  I  am  sorry  to  have  to  call  you  into  the  case, 


"222  THE  STAKE 

but  there  seems  to  be  no  other  way  to  meet  the  dif- 
ficulty.    Can  you  come  up  and  help  me? 

"  Yours  truly, 

"  TRAVIS." 

As  he  handed  the  letter  to  the  office-clerk,  with  in- 
structions to  have  it  mailed  without  delay,  he  was  sur- 
prised to  see  Dick  Weston  enter  the  door,  dressed  in 
a  light-gray  summer  suit  and  straw  hat. 

"How  are  you,  Weston?"  he  cried  with  apparent 
cordiality.  "  You're  just  the  man  I  want  to  see.  Join 
me  in  a  cigar,  and  help  me  kill  time." 

"Thanks,"  replied  Dick.  "You  tempt  me,  but  I 
must  first  send  up  my  card  to  Mrs.  Carson.  I  prom- 
ised to  call  this  afternoon." 

"  Hence  these  shining  garments,  I  suppose !  "  laughed 
Travis.  "  You  probably  won't  be  able  to  see  her.  She 
has  gone  upstairs  to  comfort  Miss  Ellsworth,  who  is 
laid  up  with  a  headache." 

He  produced  a  couple  of  Havanas,  and  they  both 
went  out  on  the  piazza. 

"  I  don't  want  to  knock  your  town,  Weston,  but 
really  this  is  the  dullest  hole  I  ever  got  into,"  ex- 
claimed Travis,  as  they  took  chairs  to  a  shady  spot, 
and  lighted  their  cigars.  "And  it's  so  beastly  hot, 
too." 

"  Hence  these  shining  garments,"  repeated  Weston, 
smiling.  "  Please  remember  that  this  is  not  my  town, 
nor  am  I  responsible  for  the  weather.  Fortunately  I 
was  prepared  for  it,  though.  I  tell  you,  it  was  a  relief 
to  get  into  these  thin  togs." 


THE  STAKE  223 

"  You  have  the  advantage  of  me,"  continued  the  other 
moodily.  "  I  left  Boston  in  such  a  hurry,  I  forgot  to 
prepare  for  a  change  in  the  weather." 

"Expect  to  remain  here  long?"  inquired  Weston. 

"  I  hope  not.  That  is  —  I  can't  tell  —  Say,  Weston, 
is  your  decision  about  the  property  irrevocable  ?  " 

Weston  took  the  cigar  from  his  lips,  and  turned  to 
his  companion  with  a  well-assumed  air  of  surprise. 

"You  mean  that  Michigan  land?" 

"  Yes.  Can't  I  deal  direct  with  you  ?  Your  man, 
Rankin,  is  too  much  for  me.  I  made  him  a  fair  propo- 
sition, but  he  put  me  off  without  the  least  considera- 
tion." 

"  What  was  the  proposition  ?  " 

"  I  offered  to  pay  him  more  than  the  land  was  worth. 
I  couldn't  be  any  fairer  than  that,  could  I  ?  " 

"  That  would  seem  to  be  more  than  fair,"  replied 
Weston,  puffing  quietly  at  his  cigar.  "  What  was  the 
amount  of  your  offer  ?  " 

"  No  amount  was  named,  but  I  don't  mind  telling 
you  in  confidence,  that  I  was  prepared  to  go  as  high 
as  ten  thousand  dollars." 

"  Indeed !    Is  the  land  worth  that  much  ?  " 

Travis  eyed  his  companion  curiously.  He  seemed 
to  detect  a  tone  of  sarcasm  or  concealed  humor  in  the 
last  remark. 

"  You  don't  value  it  so  high  ?  "  he  inquired,  guard- 
edly. 

"  I  haven't  the  least  idea  of  its  value.  That's  why 
I  left  it  to  Rankin.  You'll  have  to  settle  it  with  him." 

The  young  attorney  frowned. 


224  THE  STAKE 

"  It's  hard  luck.  That's  the  least  I  can  say  of  it. 
When  a  man  is  employed  on  a  case,  and  brings  it  to 
the  point  of  conclusion,  it  is  rather  disappointing  to 
have  to  refer  it  back  to  his  principal,  and  confess  his 
failure." 

"  Then  you  have  abandoned  the  idea  of  buying?  " 

"  No,"  replied  Travis.  "  We  haven't  abandoned  it, 
but  I've  had  to  send  for  Senator  Ellsworth  to  make 
terms  with  your  confounded  agent." 

"  Senator  Ellsworth ! "  exclaimed  Weston.  "  So, 
you  have  had  to  send  for  him,  have  you  ?  " 

He  paused  for  a  moment  and  then  added  with  a 
laugh : 

"  Travis,  I  think  you  and  I  can  sit  back  and  look  on. 
If  I'm  not  mistaken,  your  client  will  find  his  match  in 
Rankin." 

A  hand  was  laid  on  his  arm,  and  he  turned  to  find 
Dicky  Carson  at  his  side. 

"  Mamma  says  to  please  excuse  her.  Aunt  Louise 
is  sick,  and  she  has  to  stay  with  her.  And  will  you 
please  play  with  me  ?  " 

Weston  put  his  arm  around  the  boy. 

"  All  right,  little  comrade,"  he  said.  "  What  shall  it 
be?" 

Dicky  looked  at  him  a  moment  with  bewildered 
eyes,  trying  to  plan  something  worthy  of  such  an  un- 
usual opportunity.  Then  with  a  comical  expression  of 
despair,  he  said : 

"You  tell." 

"Oh,  run  along!"  cried  Travis.  "You  mustn't 
bother  Mr.  Weston." 


THE  STAKE  225 

"  His  name  is  Mr.  Crusoe,"  declared  Dicky,  delib- 
erately. "  And  he  promised  to  play  with  me." 

Weston  smiled  at  the  boy,  and  held  him  closer. 

"Let  me  see!  What  can  we  do?  How  would  you 
like  to  go  with  me  up  to  my  home.  Perhaps  I  could 
show  you  some  new  playthings." 

"  What  ?  "  cried  the  boy  eagerly. 

"  Oh,  a  family  of  little  pigs,  and  a  young  colt  that 
kicks  up  his  heels.  Then  we  might  go  out  and  pick 
some  strawberries." 

"  I'll  go,"  decided  Dicky,  as  he  wriggled  out  of  his 
friend's  arm,  and  indicated  his  readiness  to  start  at 
once. 

"  Ask  your  mother,  first.  Tell  her  I'll  take  good  care 
of  you,  and  bring  you  back  before  supper." 

The  boy  darted  away,  and  Travis  exclaimed  petu- 
lantly : 

"  This  is  the  worst  hole  I  ever  got  into.  How  in  the 
world  anyone  would  come  here  for  a  summer's  recrea- 
tion is  a  mystery  to  me." 

"  It  all  depends  upon  the  person,"  replied  Weston. 
"  I  can  imagine  that  it  wouldn't  suit  you.  Why  don't 
you  go  back  to  Boston  ?  " 

"  I  wish  I  could.  But  I  must  wait  for  word  from  old 
Ellsworth." 

"  I  promise  you  neither  Rankin  nor  I  will  run  away," 
laughed  Weston.  "  But,  if  Mr.  Ellsworth  is  coming 
here  to  negotiate  with  Rankin  for  that  land,  I  advise 
you  to  stay,  for  I  think  we'll  see  some  fun." 

At  this  moment  Dicky  returned  beaming  with  de- 
light. His  mother  had  given  him  permission  to  go, 


226  THE  STAKE 

and  Mr.  Weston  was  to  take  supper  with  them  on  his 
return. 

"  And  I  promised  to  be  good  and  not  bother,  and  I 
mustn't  eat  too  many  strawberries  —  and  I  mustn't  ask 
questions  —  and  I  mustn't  get  my  clothes  dirty,  and  — " 

"  Come  on !  "  cried  Weston  gayly,  taking  him  by  the 
hand.  "  Will  you  join  us,  Travis  ?  " 

"  No !  I'm  afraid  I'd  get  my  clothes  dirty,  or  ask 
too  many  questions,  or  do  something  else  real  naughty. 
I'll  stay  here  and  fight  it  out  with  my  cigars." 

When  they  were  gone,  Travis  strolled  to  the  corner, 
and  watched  the  couple  as  they  climbed  the  road  lead- 
ing up  the  long  hill,  the  boy  clinging  to  the  other's  hand, 
and  skipping  merrily  at  his  side. 

"  He's  a  queer  fellow !  I'm  glad  we  have  to  deal  with 
the  man,  Rankin,"  he  muttered.  "  It  goes  against  the 
grain  to  try  to  get  the  better  of  such  a  chap  as  Weston. 
A  nice  sentiment  for  me  to  indulge  in ! " 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  turned  back  to  the 
hotel,  where  he  lounged  about  the  piazza  the  rest  of 
the  day,  smoking  and  grumbling  over  the  fate  which 
held  him  prisoner  in  such  a  place. 

Meanwhile,  Mrs.  Carson,  sitting  at  Louise  Ellsworth's 
bedside,  was  waiting  for  an  opportunity  to  tell  her 
friend  of  the  events  of  the  morning,  and  her  discovery 
of  Dick  Weston.  The  romantic  story  of  their  strange 
adventure  had,  long  ago,  suggested  to  her  the  possi- 
bility of  a  closer  attachment  between  these  two,  and 
her  interest  was  aroused.  Of  Weston's  feelings  to- 
wards Louise,  she  was  almost  sure,  but  she  could  not 
understand  why  he  wished  to  avoid  her.  That  Louise 


THE  STAKE  227 

was  interested  in  him,  she  did  not  doubt.  He  was  at- 
tractive personally;  their  acquaintance,  though  brief, 
had  certainly  been  intimate;  and  here  was  an  oppor- 
tunity to  renew  it. 

Frankly  admitting  to  herself  that  it  was  none  of  her 
business,  she  could  not  resist  taking  part  in  weaving 
the  web  of  this  romance.  But  all  attempts  at  conversa- 
tion had  thus  far  failed. 

"  Please  don't  talk,  dear,"  pleaded  the  sufferer.  "  My 
head  is  nearly  splitting.  You  can  do  nothing  for  it. 
It  always  lasts  all  day." 

As  the  afternoon  wore  away,  Mrs.  Carson  went  out- 
of-doors  for  a  breath  of  fresh  air,  and  found  Travis 
moping  alone  on  the  piazza. 

"  Come  to  my  rescue,"  he  cried,  as  he  spied  her  at 
the  open  doorway.  "  I'm  like  a  ship  adrift  in  mid- 
ocean.  I  thought  I  had  captured  Weston  for  awhile, 
but  he  deserted  me  in  favor  of  Dicky.  How  is  Louise 
—  Miss  Ellsworth?  Are  you  two  going  to  be  unap- 
proachable much  longer?  Think  of  me  stranded  in  this 
hole  without  a  companion." 

"  Louise  should  have  postponed  her  headache,  rather 
than  let  it  inconvenience  you,"  replied  Mrs.  Carson, 
sarcastically. 

Travis  threw  away  his  cigar,  and  joined  the  young 
widow  as  she  walked  slowly  along  the  piazza. 

"  Mrs.  Carson ! "  he  said,  after  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion. "You're  a  good  friend  of  mine,  aren't  you?" 

"  Tell  me  what  you  want  first.  You  can't  trap  me 
with  any  of  the  tricks  of  your  profession,"  she  replied 
saucily. 


228  THE  STAKE 

"Of  course  you  understand  about  this  matter  between 
—  between  Louise  and  —  and  myself?" 

Mrs.  Carson  made  no  reply,  and  Travis  was  forced  to 
go  deeper  into  his  explanation. 

"  We  have  known  each  other  since  we  were  chil- 
dren, and  I  have  always  looked  upon  her  as  —  well,  I 
have  always  thought  that  sometime  we  would  marry, 
don't  you  know  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  know,"  replied  Mrs.  Carson,  sharply. 
"  Please  don't  assume  that  I  am  in  anybody's  confidence 
in  affairs  of  that  kind.  I  have  other  things  to  think 
about." 

"  I  want  your  help  and  your  advice,"  he  continued. 
"  I  love  Louise  with  all  my  heart,  and  I  believed  that 
she  was  not  indifferent  to  me,  but  lately  I  have  noticed 
a  change.  She  doesn't  meet  me  with  the  same  freedom 
as  before,  and  when  I  speak  of  my  hopes,  she  receives 
me  with  cold  looks  and  evasive  replies.  I  am  sure  of 
her  father's  consent  to  our  union,  if  only  I  can  win 
hers." 

They  had  reached  the  end  of  the  piazza,  and  stood 
looking  up  the  village  street. 

"  You  ask  my  advice,"  she  said. 

"  Yes.     I  look  upon  you  as  a  friend  to  both  of  us." 

"  My  advice  to  you  is  to  give  her  up." 

He  started  back  in  surprise. 

"  Give  her  up  ?  Never !  Why  should  I  ?  We  are 
suited  for  each  other.  She  has  never  cared  for  any 
other  man  — " 

She  looked  up  quickly. 

"  Are  you  sure  of  that?  "  she  asked. 


THE  STAKE  229 

"  I  thought  so,"  he  answered  slowly.  "  Why  do  you 
ask  the  question?  Have  you  any  suspicion?  Whom 
do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Is  that  Dicky  coming  down  the  hill  ?  "  she  asked, 
pointing  to  where  two  figures  could  be  seen  in  the  dis- 
tance. 

"  Yes,  he  and  Weston." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  him  ?  " 

"Who?    Dicky?" 

"  No." 

Travis  looked  at  her  curiously  for  a  moment. 

"  Do  you  mean,"  he  said,  "  that  you  think  Louise  is 
interested  in  this  fellow  —  is  in  love  with  him?" 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  it,  but  I  am  quite  sure, 
if  I  were  in  her  place,  that  is  just  what  would  happen 
to  me." 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  he  exclaimed  angrily.  "  It's  pre- 
posterous. Why,  she  has  only  seen  him  two  days." 

"  Yes,  but  those  two  days  were  eventful,  to  say  the 
least." 

"  He  was  of  service  to  her,  and,  no  doubt,  she  feels 
grateful,  but  I  don't  believe  she  has  any  deeper  senti- 
ment towards  him,  unless  — "  he  stopped  suddenly,  and 
looked  f rowningly  upon  her  — "  unless  somebody  has 
been  putting  romantic  notions  into  her  head." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  Don't  accuse  me,"  she  said.  "  I'm  innocent  of  any 
plot  against  your  designs.  But  I  warn  you  that  my 
sympathies  are  with  the  other  party.  So  you  see  I 
cannot  help  you,  unless  you  will  take  my  advice  to  give 
her  up." 


230  THE  STAKE 

She  drew  a  dainty  lace  handkerchief  from  her  waist, 
and  waved  to  the  approaching  figures.  Travis  bit  his 
lip  and  turned  away. 

"  I  see  I  must  fight  my  battles  alone,"  he  said  bit- 
terly, as  he  left  her. 

When  Weston  reached  the  end  of  the  piazza.,  where 
Mrs.  Carson  stood,  he  picked  up  the  boy  and  lifted  him 
over  the  rail  beside  his  mother. 

"  Oh,  Mamma !  "  cried  the  little  fellow.  "  I  saw  some 
pigs  with  little  curly  tails  at  one  end,  and  mouths  at  the 
other  end,  and  they  squealed  just  like  this." 

He  gave  a  good  imitation  of  the  sound,  which  was 
smothered  in  a  kiss  from  his  mother,  who  stooped  down 
and  took  him  in  her  arms,  while  the  boy  continued  his 
account  of  the  afternoon's  sport. 

"  And  then  we  went  and  picked  some  strawberries, 
and  I  got  some  on  my  waist,  but  Mr.  Crusoe  said  it  was 
all  right,  because  he  always  did  when  he  was  a  boy  — 
and  there  was  a  lady  gave  me  a  doughnut  like  a  dog, 
but  I  ate  it  up,  and  then  there  was  a  funny  old  man 
made  me  a  whistle,  and  I've  got  it  in  my  pocket  —  and, 
oh !  I've  had  such  a  good  time." 

"  I  hope  he  hasn't  troubled  you,  Mr.  Weston,"  said 
Mrs.  Carson,  as  he  came  up  the  steps  and  joined  them. 

"  Trouble !  I  should  say  not !  We've  been  boys  to- 
gether, haven't  we,  Dicky?  We  didn't  trouble  each 
other.  We  just  had  lots  of  fun." 

The  boy  threw  his  arms  impulsively  about  him,  and 
cried : 

"  Oh,  I  love  you !  Next  to  mamma  and  Aunt  Louise. 
Better  than  Martha." 


THE  STAKE  231 

Weston  picked  him  up  and  carried  him  on  his  shoul- 
der into  the  hotel  office,  whither  Travis  had  already  dis- 
appeared. The  latter  was  nowhere  to  be  seen,  nor  did 
he  join  them  at  supper,  although  Mrs.  Carson  looked 
for  him  with  a  half -repentant  wish  to  offer  him  some 
consolation. 

A  half-hour  later,  as  she  sat  at  the  table  opposite 
Weston,  she  thought  complacently  of  the  romance  which 
was  being  enacted  under  her  guidance.  Given  an  ador- 
able young  girl,  two  devoted  lovers,  the  intimacy  of  as- 
sociation in  a  small  hotel,  a  bright  woman  as  intrigante, 
and  there  remains  only  the  setting  of  the  pieces,  with 
a  convenient  arrangement  of  opportunities,  to  produce 
the  plot,  the  struggle,  and  the  happy  result.  To  the 
young  widow,  the  choice  of  hero  had  been  by  the  intui- 
tion of  her  own  heart.  With  all  her  friendliness  for 
Ned  Travis,  she  cast  him  aside  as  unavailable  when 
compared  with  the  other.  Nor  did  she  fear  any  real 
suffering  on  his  part.  His  pride  might  be  hurt,  but 
his  affections  were  not  likely  to  be  seriously  damaged 
by  the  loss  of  Louise  Ellsworth,  for  whom  he  professed 
a  love  which,  while  no  doubt  sincere,  was  founded  upon 
a  sense  of  birthright,  by  reason  of  long  acquaintance. 

If  she  were  at  all  analytical  as  to  the  true  state  of 
Louise's  own  feelings,  it  was  to  put  herself,  in  imagina- 
tion, in  the  girl's  place,  and  to  make  her  choice  from  that 
standpoint.  From  this  basis  of  reasoning,  she  arrived 
at  but  one  result:  Louise  Ellsworth  must  inevitably 
love  Dick  Weston,  whether  she  herself  realized  it  or 
not.  Perhaps  the  reflection  of  another  attachment, 
which  she  kept  carefully  concealed  in  her  own  heart, 


232  THE  STAKE 

gave  her  prophetic  insight  into  the  true  state  of  her 
friend's  sentiments.  It  was  the  memory  of  this  secret 
fancy  which  brought  the  blush  to  her  cheek,  when  Wes- 
ton  remarked  cheerfully: 

"If  only  we  had  Dr.  Stewart  here  now,  it  would  be 
quite  like  a  family  reunion.  Then,  for  the  sake  of  ap- 
pearances, I  would  have  to  be  '  Bill  Jenkins  '  again." 

"  I  am  sometimes  puzzled  to  remember,"  she  said, 
"  whether  you  are  Mr.  Jenkins  or  Mr.  Crusoe  or  Mr. 
Weston." 

"  Take  your  choice,"  he  replied,  laughing.  "  I  seem 
to  fit  any  one  of  the  three." 

"  Do  you  know  that,  while  the  others  were  deceived 
about  you,  and  thought  you  were  only  an  ordinary 
sailor  or  workman,  I  knew  instinctively  that  you  were 
—  different." 

There  was  an  amused  twinkle  in  Weston's  eye. 

"  Different  ?  "  he  asked.  "  In  what  way  am  I  dif- 
ferent from  the  usual  run  of  mortals  ?  " 

"  I  hardly  know  how  to  express  it.  You  are  —  well, 
you  are  our  kind.  Do  you  understand  what  I  mean  ?  " 

"  I  understand  that  you  are  paying  me  a  fine  compli- 
ment, Mrs.  Carson.  It  is  a  patent  of  nobility  to  be 
classed  as  '  one  of  your  kind.'  " 

"  I  wish  you  would  talk  of  sumpin'  else,"  complained 
Dicky,  who  had  been  looking  from  one  to  the  other, 
waiting  for  a  familiar  strain  in  the  conversation. 

"  What,  for  instance  ?  "  said  Weston,  glad  to  change 
the  subject  from  himself.  "  Have  you  told  your  mother 
about  the  hen's  eggs  ?  " 

"  Oh ! "  cried  the  boy,  plunging  into  an  account  of 


THE  STAKE  233 

his  day's  experiences.  "  We  found  lots  of  them  in  a 
great  big  house." 

"  Barn,"  interjected  Weston. 

"  Where  there  were  piles  and  piles  of  hay,"  continued 
Dicky. 

"  Not  so  loud ! "  interrupted  his  mother.  "  Every- 
body in  the  dining-room  can  hear  you." 

"  And  I  got  fourteen,"  he  declared,  in  a  whisper. 
"  And  Mr.  Crusoe  gave  me  a  penny  for  each  one." 

Then  casting  a  shy  look  at  his  friend,  he  added 
soberly : 

"  But  he  found  most  all  of  the  eggs  hisself." 

Mrs.  Carson  shook  her  head  at  Weston. 

"  You  are  teaching  my  son  strange  lessons  in  busi- 
ness methods,"  she  said.  Then  as  her  glance  went  past 
him  to  the  entrance  of  the  dining-room,  she  dropped 
her  napkin,  and  rose  hastily  from  her  chair. 

"  There  comes  Louise !  "  she  exclaimed. 

Weston  started  from  his  seat  and  turned  to  meet  her, 
whom  he  had  not  seen  since  that  memorable  day,  when 
they  were  parted  so  unexpectedly.  And  she,  supposing 
him  to  be  Ned  Travis,  did  not  notice  him,  until,  just  as 
she  reached  the  table,  they  met  face  to  face.  After  a 
slight  hesitation,  he  held  out  his  hand  to  her,  while 
Mrs.  Carson  exclaimed  nervously: 

"  I  believe  you  have  met  Mr.  Weston  before." 

For  a  brief  moment  there  was  an  awkward  pause, 
and  then  as  her  hand  was  laid  in  his,  Weston  said 
gravely : 

"  It  is  a  great  pleasure  for  me  to  see  you  again,  Miss 
Ellsworth.  I  called  earlier  in  the  day,  but  was  told 


234  THE  STAKE 

that  you  were  kept  in  your  room  with  a  headache.  I 
hope  you  are  better." 

"  Thank  you/'  she  replied,  slowly  withdrawing  her 
eyes  from  his  face.  "  I  didn't  know  —  no  one  told 
me—" 

"  It  was  my  fault,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Carson.  "  I  in- 
tended to  tell  you  that  Mr.  Weston  called,  but  you 
wouldn't  let  me  talk  to  you.  How  is  the  head  now? 
Sit  down  with  us  and  have  a  cup  of  tea." 

"  The  headache  is  gone,  thank  you,"  said  Louise, 
taking  a  seat  at  the  table.  "  But  I  need  more  than  a 
cup  of  tea  after  my  long  fast." 

"  Now  we  are  all  here !  "  announced  Dicky,  delight- 
edly kicking  his  heels  against  the  rounds  of  his  chair. 
"  I'm  glad  you've  come,  Aunt  Louise,  'cause  Mr.  Cru- 
soe can't  very  well  tell  'bout  the  shipwreck.  He  don't 
remember  very  well." 

"  Dicky,  you  are  altogether  too  talkative,"  chided  his 
mother.  "  Remember,  little  people  should  be  seen  and 
not  heard." 

"  If  they're  little,  nobody  sees  them,  unless  they  make 
a  noise,"  pouted  the  boy. 

"  Have  you  met  any  of  the  people  here  ?  "  inquired 
Weston  of  Mrs.  Carson,  as  he  glanced  around  the  din- 
ing-room. "  They  are  the  ones  who  arrived  at  the 
opening  of  the  season,  so  they  are  called  '  the  first  fam- 
ilies.' " 

"  And  very  select,  no  doubt,"  remarked  Mrs.  Car- 
son carelessly.  "  We  are  interlopers,  you  know,  so  they 
look  askance  at  us." 

"  They'll  take  you  in  before  long,"  laughed  Weston. 


THE  STAKE  235 

"  Everybody  is  acquainted  within  a  week,  in  a  place  like 
this." 

"  A  week !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Carson.  "  We're  not 
going  to  stay  here  a  week,  I  hope." 

She  turned  inquiringly  to  her  friend. 

"  Are  we,  Louise  ?  " 

"  Not  on  my  account,"  was  the  hasty  reply. 

"  Of  course,  dear,"  added  Mrs.  Carson,  demurely, 
"  I  won't  desert  you  if  you  really  want  to  stay." 

"  I  would  like  to  stay  long  enough  to  make  a  respecta- 
ble exit,"  laughed  Louise.  "  Most  of  the  time  since  I 
came  has  been  spent  in  bed  with  a  headache." 

''  The  excitement  here  has  been  too  much  for  you," 
declared  Mrs.  Carson.  "  Tell  us,  Mr.  Weston,  is  there 
really  anything  to  attract  one  to  this  place  ?  " 

"Socially?" 

"  No,  I  despair  of  that ;  although  Ned  Travis  did 
make  the  effort  last  night.  What  do  people  come  here 
for?" 

"  I  might  better  ask  that  question  of  you,"  laughed 
Weston. 

"  Then  Louise  w,ould  have  to  answer  it.  She  is  the 
one  who  dragged  me  here." 

"  It  was  curiosity,  I  think,  or  —  or  something  like 
that,"  faltered  Louise,  coloring  slightly. 

Then  bravely  facing  Weston,  she  said : 

"  I  am  glad  of  this  opportunity  to  thank  you,  Mr. 
Weston,  for  your  kindness  to  me  when  —  when  we  were 
together — that  time.  Our  parting  was  so  abrupt,  I 
didn't  tell  you  then,  and,  afterwards — " 

She  paused,  gave  a  little  nervous  laugh,  and  added: 


236  THE  STAKE 

"  Afterwards  you  disappeared,  and  no  one  could  find 
you." 

"  And  I  knew  where  he  was  all  the  time,"  declared 
Mrs.  Carson,  eager  to  tell  of  her  discovery.  "  Prepare 
for  a  surprise." 

But  her  story  was  interrupted  by  a  waiter,  who  in- 
formed Weston  that  a  lady  wished  to  see  him  in  the 
office. 

"  Will  you  excuse  me  ?  "  he  asked,  rising  from  the 
table. 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Mrs.  Carson.  "  We've  finished 
supper,  so  we'll  follow  you." 

They  all  left  the  dining-room  together  and  went  into 
the  office,  or  main  waiting-room  of  the  hotel,  where 
Weston  found  Mrs.  Guilford  standing  near  the  door. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Weston ! "  she  cried,  as  he  came  towards 
her  with  outstretched  hand.  "  Ezry  is  took  awful  bad 
with  rheumatiz.  He  wants  to  see  ye.  I  went  over  to 
th'  haouse,  an'  Mis'  Briggs,  she  said  she  guessed  yew 
was  daown  here.  I've  been  a-waitin'  some  time  t'  see 
ye.  I  hated  t'  disturb  ye,  but  Ezry  — " 

"  Don't  say  another  word,  Mrs.  Guilford.  Wait  a 
moment  until  I  get  my  hat.  Mrs.  Carson,  will  you  ex- 
cuse me  ?  An  old  friend  of  mine,  Squire  Guilford,  has 
sent  for  me.  He  is  in  trouble.  Mrs.  Guilford,  this 
is  Mrs.  Carson,  and  Miss  Ellsworth." 

"  Glad  t'  know  ye  both,"  said  Mrs.  Guilford,  making 
a  quaint  courtesy.  "  I  hope  I  ain't  makin'  trouble." 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  replied  Mrs.  Carson,  as  Weston 
left  them.  "  I  wish  we  could  be  of  some  assistance  to 
you.  Is  it  your  husband  who  is  in  trouble?  " 


THE  STAKE  237 

"  Only  a  bad  attack  o'  rheumatiz.  He's  bed  it  off 
an'  on  fer  thirty  year,  but  this  one's  'bout  th'  wust  I 
ever  see.  He's  worryin'  'bout  th'  stage,  an'  th'  mail. 
When  he  come  home  to-night,  he  says  t'  me,  says  he, 
'  Mis'  Guilford,  I'm  plum  beat,  an'  somebody  else  has 
got  t'  do  th'  stagin'  t-morrer.'  Then  he  sent  fer  Mr. 
Weston.  Ye  see  he  sot  so  much  by  his  uncle,  thet  he 
natchly  turns  to  th'  young  one  fer  help." 

"  Mr.  Weston's  uncle  was  your  friend,  was  he?"  in- 
quired Mrs.  Carson,  tempted  to  learn  something  of  the 
antecedents  of  her  new  protege. 

"  My  friend !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Guilford.  "  He  was 
ev'rybody's  friend.  The  kindest  man  ye  ever  see. 
Young  Dick  seems  jest  like  him,  though  I  ain't  hed 
much  chance  t'  know  him  very  well." 

"  Come,  Mrs.  Guilford,"  cried  Weston,  joining  the 
group.  "  I'm  ready.  Good  night,  ladies.  May  I  call 
to-morrow  ?  " 

"  We  will  expect  you,"  said  Mrs.  Carson  cordially. 

As  she  and  Louise  stood  on  the  piazza,  watching  the 
retreating  couple,  she  remarked : 

"  I  could  almost  love  that  man." 

And  when  her  companion  made  no  comment  upon 
this  declaration,  she  added: 

"  Some  women  are  stupidly  blind,  and  all  men  are 
enigmas." 

"  I  have  heard  that  statement  reversed,"  said  a  voice 
at  her  elbow,  and  she  turned  to  find  Travis  standing 
by  her  side. 

"  I  withdraw  the  remark,  as  applied  to  you,"  she  re- 
plied quickly.  "  You  are  blindly  stupid,  and  no 


238  THE  STAKE 

enigma.  Where  have  you  been  hiding,  and  what  have 
you  been  hatching?" 

"  Waiting  my  turn,  and  hatching  compliments  for  the 
only  two  possible  women  in  the  hotel.  Be  merciful  and 
give  me  your  company.  How  is  the  headache,  Louise  ?  " 

"  Better,  thank  you.  But  I  am  in  an  uncommonly 
stupid  frame  of  mind,  so,  if  you  and  Mrs.  Carson  will 
excuse  me,  I'll  go  to  my  room,  and  let  you  two  settle 
your  differences  without  an  audience." 

"  Well  ?  "  inquired  Travis,  as  Louise  left  them. 

"  My  dear  fellow ! "  said  Mrs.  Carson.  "  Go  back 
to  Boston,  patch  up  your  wounded  heart,  and  try  a  new 
field  for  your  wooing." 

"  Not  yet,"  he  replied,  with  a  savage  frown.  "  There 
are  several  cards  still  to  be  played." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  next  morning  was  ushered  in  by  a  raw  east 
wind,  and  a  drizzling  rain.  Everybody  kept  within 
doors.  Even  the  hotel  piazza  was  deserted,  save  that 
from  time  to  time  some  hopeful  prisoner  would  venture 
out  to  take  observations  of  the  sky,  and  then,  discour- 
aged by  the  unbroken  and  gloomy  gray,  would  hurry 
back  to  the  shelter  and  warmth  of  the  office,  where  a 
large  stove  radiated  heat  into  the  faces  of  a  circle  of 
disconsolate  guests. 

In  an  adjoining  room,  called  by  courtesy,  "  The  La- 
dies' Parlor,"  an  amateur  musician  was  extracting  un- 
certain harmonies  from  an  untuned  piano.  Stale  odors 
permeated  the  whole  house,  unable  to  find  an  exit 
through  the  fast-closed  windows  and  doors. 

The  dash  of  the  rain,  the  muffled  roar  of  the  surf, 
the  monotonous  chatter  of  the  people  about  him,  all 
added  to  Travis's  ill  humor.  His  companions  in  misery 
offered  no  attractions  socially,  and  so  he  moped  about 
the  place  alone,  dejectedly  smoking  one  cigar  after  an- 
other, until,  spying  Dicky  sliding  down  the  banister, 
he  called  out: 

"  Here !    Youngster !    Where's  your  mother  ?  " 

"  She  and  Aunt  Louise  are  writing  letters,"  answered 
the  boy,  mounting  the  stairs  for  another  slide. 

"  Well,  you  tell  her  there's  a  madman  raging  around 


240  THE  STAKE 

down  here,  and  ask  her  what  ought  to  be  done  to  him." 

Dicky  repeated  his  acrobatic  feat,  landed  against  the 
newel-post  with  a  thud,  rolled  over  on  the  floor,  and 
stared  up  at  Travis. 

"Huh!" 

"  Tell  her  I'll  go  to  the  bad  if  it  doesn't  stop  raining." 

Dicky  slowly  gathered  himself  together  and  climbed 
the  stairs,  looking  back  from  time  to  time,  with  a  puz- 
zled expression  on  his  face.  In  a  few  minutes  he  re- 
turned, and  called  from  the  top  stair: 

"  Mamma  says  the  rain  falls  on  bad  people  as  well 
as  good  people.  And  that's  from  the  Bible.  So  you'd 
better  look  out." 

"  That  may  do  for  spiritual  comfort,  but  what  I  need 
is  diversion." 

"  I  didn't  ask  her  for  any  of  that,"  said  Dicky,  as  he 
prepared  for  another  descent.  "  But  she  told  me  to 
tell  you  that  she'd  play  with  you  after  dinner." 

The  newel-post  again  served  as  a  buffer,  and  Dicky 
landed  on  the  floor. 

"  Good  news !  Here's  a  dime  for  you,  my  son," 
cried  Travis,  and  sauntered  away,  leaving  Dicky  eye- 
ing the  coin  suspiciously. 

The  day  was  one  of  idleness  and  ennui,  and  it  was 
hot  until  late  in  the  afternoon  that  a  lull  in  the  storm 
gave  the  imprisoned  guests  of  the  hotel  an  opportunity 
to  go  out  in  the  open  air,  where  they  wandered  up  and 
down  the  piazza,  looking  at  the  scudding  clouds  which 
drifted  low  over  their  heads,  or  watching  the  little  fleet 
of  boats,  bobbing  like  corks  on  the  turbulent  waters  of 
the  harbor. 


THE  STAKE  241 

There  was  something  in  the  smell  of  the  sea,  com- 
bined with  the  chill  of  the  damp  atmosphere,  which 
reminded  Louise  Ellsworth  of  that  other  storm  which 
she  had  experienced  only  two  months  before. 

"  It  was  out  there,"  she  said  to  Mrs.  Carson,  pointing 
seaward,  "  that  we  lived  through  that  fearful  time. 
This  is  a  weak  imitation,  but  the  roar  of  the  wind  and 
sea  brings  it  to  my  mind." 

"  It  was  fortunate  that  you  were  not  alone,"  sug- 
gested Mrs.  Carson. 

"  Fortunate,  but  a  little  embarrassing,"  replied 
Louise.  "  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  how  I  looked, 
with  my  hair  down,  and  my  clothes  all  wet  and  torn. 
I've  often  wondered  what  he  thought  of  me. 

"  But,"  she  added  with  a  laugh,  "  his  appearance  was 
not  much  better." 

"  Oh,  Mamma !  "  cried  Dicky,  as  the  stage  drove  up 
to  the  door.  "  There's  Mr.  Crusoe." 

Enveloped  in  an  oil-skin  coat  and  hat,  still  dripping 
with  rain,  Weston  sprang  from  the  stage,  and  called  to 
the  porter : 

"  No  passengers  to-day." 

"  Mr.  Crusoe !  Mr.  Crusoe !  "  cried  Dicky  from  the 
piazza,  and  Weston,  seeing  the  two  ladies  looking  down 
at  him,  ran  up  the  steps  and  came  to  where  they  were 
standing. 

"  You  are  indeed  Mr.  Crusoe,"  said  Louise,  meeting 
him  with  a  smile.  "  Now  I  know  you." 

In  garments  so  suggestive  of  the  Mr.  Crusoe  of  other 
days,  he  completed  the  picture  in  her  memory. 

"  I  am  the  official  stage-driver,  pro   tern.,"  he  ex- 


242  THE  STAKE 

plained.  "  The  poor  old  squire  is  still  nursing  his  ach- 
ing joints,  and  as  no  other  substitute  was  at  hand,  I 
had  to  relieve  his  mind  by  driving  to  Oldfield  for  the 
mail." 

"  In  this  frightful  weather  ?  It  must  have  been  aw- 
fully disagreeable,"  said  Mrs.  Carson. 

"  Not  in  the  least.     I  liked  it." 

"  Mr.  Weston  is  a  modern  Ariel,"  remarked  Louise. 
"  The  storm  seems  to  be  his  natural  element." 

"  I  believe  you  would  have  enjoyed  it  yourself. 
When  a  person  is  well  protected,  it's  fun  to  be  out  in  the 
rain.  I  suppose  you  have  been  housed  up  all  day  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Louise.  "  We  didn't  know  that  such 
weather  was  one  of  the  attractions  of  this  resort.  The 
fresh  air  does  smell  good.  It's  been  close  and  stuffy 
in  the  hotel." 

"  You  ought  to  be  driving  behind  Guil ford's  horses 
to  get  the  real  dash  and  spirit  of  it  all.  You  can  tell 
by  the  mud  on  the  stage  that  I  didn't  spare  them.  In- 
deed they  enjoyed  it,  too.  We  didn't  stop  for  any- 
thing—  just  splashed  through  puddles,  and  rattled  down 
hills,  as  if  we  were  sent  for  in  a  hurry." 

His  face  was  flushed  with  exposure  and  the  exhilara- 
tion of  his  drive.  Mrs.  Carson,  looking  at  him  ad- 
miringly, said: 

"  You  are  a  very  different  appearing  man  from  the 
unfortunate  Mr.  Jenkins  whom  I  knew  only  a  month 
ago." 

"  Thanks  to  you,"  he  replied  gallantly. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Weston ! "  exclaimed  Louise  impulsively. 
"  Mrs.  Carson  has  told  me  all  about  —  about  your  being 


THE  STAKE  243 

the  Mr.  Jenkins  who  was  injured  —  of  course  you  know 
that  I  never  suspected  it  was  you.  It  was  such  a  cruel 
accident !  And  to  think  that  I  was  the  cause  of  it !  " 

"  Please  don't  look  at  it  that  way,"  said  Weston 
gently.  "  It  was  no  fault  of  yours,  and  as  to  my  in- 
cognito, that  was  a  freak  of  fate." 

"  Do  horses  ever  wear  rubber  boots  ? "  inquired 
Dicky,  who  had  been  an  uninterested  member  of  the 
group. 

"  Not  on  week-days,"  replied  Weston. 

"  I  should  think  they  would  get  their  feet  wet." 

"  Such  a  thing  has  been  known  to  occur." 

"  Do  you  suppose  I  could  ride  in  the  stage  with  you  ?  " 
inquired  the  lad  slowly. 

"  I'm  quite  sure  of  it,"  answered  Weston,  with  a 
smile.  Then  seeing  the  look  of  objection  in  Mrs.  Car- 
son's face,  he  added : 

"  Let  him  go  with  me.  I'll  take  him  up  to  Guilford's 
and  bring  him  back  after  supper." 

"  I'm  afraid  he'll  annoy  you." 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  replied  Weston,  resting  his  hand 
on  the  boy's  head.  "  He  and  I  are  the  best  of  cronies, 
aren't  we,  Dicky  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  a  crony  is,  but  I  like  you  just 
as  if  you  was  my  papa.  Oh !  I  wish  you  was  my  papa," 
he  cried  excitedly. 

"  Your  grammar  is  a  little  off,  my  boy,"  laughed  Wes- 
ton. 

"  I  haven't  any  grandma.  Only  just  mamma,  and  — 
and  you,  and  Aunt  Louise." 

"  I  must  be  going,"  said  Weston  hastily.    "  Let  the 


244  THE  STAKE 

boy  go  with  me,  Mrs.  Carson.  I'll  take  good  care  of 
him.  By  the  way,  why  don't  you  and  Miss  Ellsworth 
come,  too.  Just  the  thing !  Get  your  wraps,  and  I'll 
take  you  all  for  a  drive  in  the  stage.  What  do  you 
say?" 

"  I  hardly  think  we  can,"  hesitated  Mrs.  Carson,  turn- 
ing to  Louise. 

"  Let's  go,"  replied  the  latter  promptly.  "  A  drive  is 
just  what  I  would  enjoy  more  than  anything  else." 

Mrs.  Carson  smiled.  She  saw  possibilities  ahead,  and 
like  a  sagacious  general  determined  to  make  use  of  the 
opportunity  which  fate  offered  her. 

"  It  will  do  you  good,  dear,  and  I  advise  you  to  go, 
but  really,  I  must  keep  my  promise  to  entertain  poor 
Ned  Travis.  Here  he  comes  now." 

"  But,  Belle,"  objected  Louise  nervously,  "  I  don't 
want  to  go  without  you.  Mr.  Travis  will  excuse  you." 

"  No.  Mr.  Travis  is  to  take  me  to  the  post  office," 
replied  Mrs.  Carson,  as  that  gentleman  joined  the  group. 

"  Delighted !  "  exclaimed  Travis.  "  An  excursion  to 
the  post  office  will  be  an  event  of  bewildering  excite- 
ment after  to-day's  experience.  Hello,  Weston!  Is 
that  you  ?  Another  disguise  ?  Great  Scott,  man !  You 
ought  to  be  labeled." 

"  Mr.  Weston  has  offered  to  take  Louise  out  for  a 
drive  as  a  final  cure  for  her  headache,"  said  Mrs.  Car- 
son. 

"  And  me,  too !  "  cried  Dicky. 

"  Why  can't  we  all  go  ?  "  asked  Louise.  "  Isn't  your 
chariot  large  enough  for  five,  Mr.  Weston?" 

A  feeling  of  timidity  made  her  fearful  of  his  com- 


THE  STAKE  245 

pany  without  the  presence  of  others,  but  Mrs.  Carson 
was  obdurate. 

"  I'm  not  going,"  declared  that  lady  decidedly.  "  And 
Mr.  Travis  is  to  keep  me  company  while  you  two  have 
your  drive." 

"  And  me,  too,"  repeated  Dicky. 

Louise  put  her  arm  about  the  boy. 

"  Very  well,  Dicky,"  she  said,  "  you  and  I  will  accept 
Mr.  Weston's  invitation." 

"  I  think  it  would  be  better  for  Dicky  to  stay  here," 
said  his  mother. 

"  You  promised !  You  promised ! "  cried  Dicky 
angrily. 

"  Of  course  he  is  to  go,"  insisted  Louise. 

"Of  course !  "  echoed  Weston. 

"  Let  him  go  by  all  means,"  added  Travis. 

"  There  seems  to  be  a  unity  of  opinion,"  replied  Mrs. 
Carson.  "  The  decision  is  against  me,  so  I  suppose  I 
must  yield.  You  are  unusually  popular  to-day,  Rich- 
ard. Come,  Mr.  Travis.  You,  at  least,  will  not  desert 
me." 

"  I  wish  I  might  say  the  same  of  you,"  he  remarked 
pointedly,  as  they  went  down  the  steps.  "  You  appear 
to  have  gone  over  to  the  enemy's  camp." 

"  My  dear  boy !  "  replied  the  widow,  resting  her  hand 
lightly  upon  his  arm,  as  she  daintily  avoided  the  pud- 
dles of  water.  "  Will  you  never  understand  ?  Fate 
and  I  have  decided  against  you.  Give  up  your  dream 
of  marrying  Louise  Ellsworth,  and  select  some  one  else 
to  heal  your  slightly  damaged  heart." 

"  The  only  other  possible  one  won't  take  me,"  replied 


246  THE  STAKE 

Travis.  "  She  prefers  the  medical  to  the  legal  profes- 
sion." 

"  Is  your  taste  so  fastidious  that  it  can  find  but  two 
in  all  the  world  worthy  of  your  devotion?  " 

"  You  are  determined  to  misunderstand  me,"  he  re- 
plied bitterly. 

"  Do  you  understand  yourself  ?  " 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"  I  mean  that  you  only  think  you  love  Louise.  You 
admire  her,  and  believe  that  she  would  be  an  agreeable 
companion  —  an  attractive  wife  —  one  who  would  help 
you  socially.  But,  my  dear  boy,  that  kind  of  sentiment 
will  never  satisfy  her.  She  wants  a  man's  whole  heart ; 
—  one-half  of  yours  is  devoted  to  your  ambition." 

"  You  are  a  very  wise  little  woman,"  said  Travis, 
thoughtfully,  "  but  you  can't  persuade  me  that  I  don't 
love  Louise.  Depend  upon  it,  I  shall  not  gire  up 
tamely.  I'm  not  that  kind." 

"  There  spoke  your  pride, —  that's  the  dominating 
passion  of  your  heart.  It  is  pride  rather  than  love  that 
rules  you." 

Travis  made  no  reply,  and  they  walked  on  in  silence 
for  several  minutes,  until  a  shout  brought  to  their  at- 
tention the  stage  with  its  party  of  three  passing  them 
in  the  street.  On  the  front  seat  next  to  Weston  was 
Dicky,  waving  his  hat  in  glee,  while  behind  them,  on  the 
second  seat,  sat  Louise  who  smiled  demurely  upon  the 
two  pedestrians  as  she  rode  by. 

Travis  gave  a  short  laugh. 

"  Hurrah  for  Dicky !  The  boy  has  saved  the  day. 
Weston  doesn't  know  how  to  improve  his  opportunity. 


THE  STAKE  247 

You  see,  Madame  Plotter,  your  scheme  has  worked 
badly." 

"  Take  what  comfort  you  can  from  the  thought,"  she 
replied  maliciously.  "I'm  not  worried  about  the  re- 
sult." 

Meanwhile,  in  the  stage,  a  much  more  cheerful  con- 
versation was  in  progress,  in  which,  however,  Dicky 
was  taking  the  leading  part. 

"What  are  the  horses'  tails  all  tied  up  for?"  he  in- 
quired, after  they  had  gone  some  distance. 

"  To  keep  them  out  of  the  mud,"  replied  Weston. 

"Are  they  hard  knots?" 

"Rather  hard.     Why?" 

"  Supposin'  you  couldn't  untie  'em !  Then  they 
couldn't  brush  off  the  flies,  could  they  ?  " 

"  Not  very  well." 

"  Wouldn't  it  be  funny  if  horses  could  sit  down  just 
like  people.  I  saw  a  horse  do  it  in  a  circus,  once.  Did 
you  ever  go  to  a  circus  ?  " 

"  Yes,  many  times,"  replied  Weston.  Then  turning 
to  Louise  he  said: 

"  Do  you  know  where  I'm  going?  " 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  To  the  top  of  the  hill  where  you  can  look  out  over 
the  ocean,  and  see  our  island.  Do  you  ever  think  of 
the  time  we  spent  there?" 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  the  blood  mounting  to  her  cheek. 
"  I  shall  never  forget  it." 

"  But  your  memory  of  it  differs  from  mine,"  he  said 
musingly.  "  For  you  it  was  a  time  of  peril  and  dis- 
tress; to  me  it  was  a  period  of  delight.  I  thoroughly 


248  THE  STAKE 

enjoyed  the  storm  and  danger.  It  was  a  real  pleasure 
to  know  that  I  was  shut  out  from  all  the  world, —  ex- 
cept you." 

His  voice  sank  almost  to  a  whisper.  She  was  silent, 
with  averted  face. 

"  The  picture  is  incomplete  without  you,"  he  added 
softly. 

"  But  what  did  you  have  to  eat  ?  "  exclaimed  Dicky. 

"  The  question  of  food  was  the  least  of  our  troubles," 
laughed  Weston,  "  although  our  last  meal  finished  the 
crumbs.  What  would  you  have  done  with  a  hungry 
young  lady  to  take  care  of,  and  nothing  left  to  eat?  " 

"  They  could  have  eaten  each  other,"  suggested  Dicky, 
after  a  moment's  deliberation. 

"  That  would  have  been  pleasant,  of  course,"  re- 
marked Weston  soberly.  "  But  the  young  lady  might 
have  objected." 

"  Not  if  she  was  very  hungry." 

"  Suppose  the  gentleman  was  very  tough  ?  " 

"  Dicky !  "  cried  Louise,  in  desperation.  "  You  hor- 
rible boy !  One  would  think  you  were  a  cannibal.  Mr. 
Weston,  you  shouldn't  encourage  him  in  such  talk." 

"  Are  you  angry  with  me,  Aunt  Louise  ? "  asked 
Dicky  penitently.  "  Your  face  is  all  red." 

"  I  think  we  are  far  enough  up  the  hill,"  declared 
Weston.  "  Look  back,  Miss  Ellsworth.  Can  you  see 
that  black  spot  —  the  farthest  of  all  the  islands  ?  That's 
the  place." 

"  It  seems  a  long  distance,"  said  Louise.  "  It's  hard 
for  me  to  imagine  its  real  appearance." 

"  And  yet  it  is  the  same  barren  rock  with  the  waves 


THE  STAKE  249 

washing  its  base,  and  the  sea-gulls  circling  about  the 
cliffs;  and  on  the  top  is  the  little  cabin,  just  as  we  left 
it." 

"And  what  else?"  inquired  Dicky. 

"  Mr.  Crusoe,"  replied  Weston,  gazing  dreamily  into 
the  distance. 

Dicky  burst  into  merry  laughter. 

"  Oh,  you  funny  man !  How  could  you  leave  your- 
self ?  We'll  have  to  go  out  to  the  island  and  hunt  for 
you.  Say,  wouldn't  that  be  fun?  Let's  do  it." 

Weston  turned  to  the  boy  and  smiled. 

"  That's  a  bright  idea.  Ask  Aunt  Louise  if  she'll  go 
with  us." 

"  Will  you,  Aunt  Louise  ?  "  cried  the  boy.  "  Come 
on !  It'll  be  lots  of  fun." 

"  I  thought  we  had  found  Mr.  Crusoe,"  said  Louise, 
hardly  daring  to  look  at  Weston. 

"  No,  we  haven't !  No,  we  haven't !  We've  got  to 
go  to  the  island  to  find  him.  Come  on.  Won't  you 
go?" 

"  We'll  talk  to  mamma  about  it." 

"All  right!  We'll  take  mamma,  and  —  and  —  had 
we  better  take  Mr.  Travis  ?  " 

"  We  might  ask  him,"  remarked  Weston. 

"  He  gets  cross,  sometimes,  but  I  suppose  we'll  have 
to  take  him,"  decided  Dicky,  thoughtfully.  "  Can  we 
go  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  Not  to-morrow,"  replied  Weston.  "  But  the  next 
day  if  it's  pleasant.  To-morrow,  I  must  drive  the  stage 
again.  And,  by  the  way,  it's  time  we  returned.  I  must 
take  the  horses  back.  It's  time  for  their  supper." 


250  THE  STAKE 

"  I  thought  you  invited  me  to  supper,  too,"  said 
Dicky. 

"  Did  I  ?  Come  to  think  of  it,  I  believe  I  did.  We'll 
stop  at  Mrs.  Guilford's  and  warn  her  that  she  must 
prepare  for  two  hungry  men." 

"  And  Aunt  Louise  ?  "  inquired  Dicky. 

"  Yes,  indeed,  if  she  will  join  us,"  replied  Weston, 
turning  to  Louise,  with  an  invitation  in  his  eyes. 

"  Mrs.  Guilford  will  have  her  hands  full,  without  the 
addition  of  my  ravenous  appetite,"  replied  Louise. 
"  You  seem  to  take  it  for  granted  that  she  can  entertain 
any  number  of  guests  on  short  notice." 

"  You  don't  know  her,"  said  Weston.  "  She  thor- 
oughly enjoys  emergencies." 

"  Just  the  same,  I  don't  care  to  force  myself  upon  her 
hospitality  without  an  invitation." 

"  But  I  have  invited  you,"  insisted  Weston.  "  It 
would  be  jolly  fun  to  take  supper  with  the  old  couple, 
and  I  would  take  you  home  early." 

Louise  was  amused  at  his  boyish  enthusiasm,  but  ad- 
hered to  her  decision,  so  they  rode  on  down  the  hill 
without  any  further  reference  to  the  question  of  sup- 
per. At  last  Weston  turned  the  horses  in  at  a  gate, 
and  drove  up  to  the  door  of  the  farmhouse. 

"  Here  we  are,"  he  cried.  "  Now  we'll  let  Mrs.  Guil- 
ford settle  it." 

The  sound  of  wheels  and  voices  brought  that  good 
woman  to  the  door,  where  she  stood  with  hands  on  hips, 
peering  through  her  spectacles,  and  smiling  cheerfully. 

"  Waal !  So  ye've  come,  hev  ye  ?  "  she  called.  "  We 
were  gittin'  afeard  ye'd  hed  a  breakdown.  Ezry  was 


THE  STAKE  251 

fer  hitchin'  up  th'  mare,  an'  goin'  t'  hunt  ye  up.  Who's 
thet  with  ye?" 

"  This  is  Miss  Ellsworth, —  you  met  her  at  the  hotel 
last  night, —  and  this  is  Master  Dick  Carson,  a  young 
gentleman  with  a  large  appetite." 

"Ye  don't  say!  Glad  t'  see  ye,  Miss  Ellwood. 
Ain't  ye  comin'  in?  Supper's  purty  near  ready." 

"  What !  All  of  us  ?  "  exclaimed  Weston,  in  a  tone 
of  surprise. 

"Why  not?" 

"  But  there  are  three  of  us." 

"  I  don't  care  ef  there's  three  hunnerd  of  ye.  They's 
allus  vittles  enough  in  this  house,  thank  the  Lord." 

"  What  did  I  say  ?  "  cried  Weston  triumphantly,  turn- 
ing to  Louise. 

"  What  didn't  you  say  ? "  she  replied,  laughing. 
"  Mrs.  Guilford,  I'm  not  going  to  let  Mr.  Weston  im- 
pose on  you.  He  was  rash  enough  to  invite  me  to  your 
house  to  supper,  and  of  course  I  refused.  Now  he  has 
inveigled  you  into  asking  me.  What  do  you  think  of 
that?" 

"  I  think  ye'd  all  better  come  in,  an'  not  stay  out  here 
talkin'  about  it.  I've  got  to  make  some  biscuits  yet." 

"  Biscuits !  "  cried  Weston,  springing  from  the  wagon, 
and  holding  up  his  hands  to  Louise.  "  That  settles  it 
Come !  You  can't  resist  that." 

She  looked  down  upon  him  with  hesitation  in  her 
eyes. 

"  I  feel  ashamed  to  do  this,"  she  declared.  Then 
placing  her  hands  in  his,  she  sprang  to  the  ground. 

"  It's  just  lovely  of  you,"  she  said  to  Mrs.  Guilford, 


252  THE  STAKE 

as  that  lady  received  her  with  a  hearty  hand-shake.  "  I 
really  would  like  to  stay  to  supper,  but  it  almost  seems 
as  if  I  had  invited  myself." 

"  Shucks,  child !  We  ain't  proud !  Come  inside. 
Ezry'll  be  glad  t'  see  ye." 

They  entered  the  house,  while  Weston  drove  the 
horses  to  the  stable. 

"  Ezry !  Ezry !  Here's  comp'ny !  "  cried  Mrs.  Guil- 
ford,  as  they  came  into  the  room  which  served  as  a  gen- 
eral living-room.  "  Make  ye  acquainted  with  Miss 
Ellwell,  and  —  and  —  whut's  yer  name,  sonny  ?  " 

"  My  name  is  Louise  Ellsworth,  and  this  is  Dicky 
Carson,"  said  Louise,  advancing  to  where  Squire  Guil- 
ford  was  sitting  in  his  easy  chair.  "  Don't  get  up,  Mr. 
Guilford.  I  know  you  are  not  feeling  well.  You  re- 
member me,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Shorely !  Shorely !  "  exclaimed  the  squire,  strug- 
gling to  rise  to  his  feet,  and  unable  to  smother  a  groan, 
as  a  twinge  of  rheumatism  caught  him,  and  forced  him 
to  drop  back  in  his  chair. 

"  Set  daown ! "  he  added,  waving  his  hand  to  a  seat. 
"  Come  here,  young  feller.  Seen  any  more  lions  lately 
—  the  kind  ye  turn  inside  out  ?  " 

He  gave  a  hoarse  chuckle,  and  Dicky  eyed  him 
soberly. 

"  That  wasn't  a  true  story,"  said  the  boy ;  "  I  meant 
to  tell  you." 

"  Ye  don't  say  so,"  remarked  the  squire,  with  a  heavy 
sigh  of  relief.  "  Waal !  Waal !  Waal !  " 

"  Now  make  yers'lf  t'  hum,"  said  Mrs.  Guilford,  as 
she  took  Louise's  hat  and  coat.  "  I've  got  a  little  cook- 


THE  STAKE  253 

in'  t'  do  fust,  an'  then  I'll  come  back  an'  visit  with  ye." 

"  Can't  I  go  with  you  ?  "  begged  Louise.  "  We  can 
visit  while  you  are  cooking,  and  perhaps  I  could  help 
you." 

"Help  me!  Whut  fer?  Cookin'  ain't  hard  work. 
Jes'  throw  a  little  flour  and  water  together,  with  some 
saleratus,  an'  stir  in  milk,  with  a  dab  o'  short'nin' 
an'  seasoning  an'  there's  yer  biscuits.  Put  a  drawin' 
o'  tea  on  th'  back  o'  th'  stove.  Slice  a  few  p'tatoes  in  a 
skillet.  Cut  a  ham.  An'  there's  yer  supper.  They's 
doughnuts  an'  sweet-cakes  in  th'  but'ry,  an'  a  jar  o' 
plums  in  th'  cellar.  I  vum !  I  fergot  about  th'  straw- 
berries. We  jes'  got  a  two-quart  pail  o'  field  berries, 
an'  we  can  use  some  o'  th'  biscuit-dough  fer  shortcake. 
Come  on,  Miss  Ellison.  If  you  want  t'  help,  ye  can 
hull  th'  berries,  while  I'm  mixing  th'  dough." 

"  I  ought  to  be  able  to  do  that,"  laughed  Louise,  as 
she  followed  her  hostess  into  the  kitchen,  just  as  Wes- 
ton  entered  the  room  by  the  other  door. 

"  Ev'nin',  Dick !  "  said  the  squire. 

"  Good  evening,  Squire.  How  are  you  feeling  to- 
night?" 

"  Perkin'  up  consid'ble,  seein'  's  they's  purty  girls 
'round.  Haow  do  ye  like  stagin'  ?  " 

"All  right.     But  there  were  no  passengers  to-day." 

"  I  see  ye  picked  up  one,  though,"  grinned  the  squire, 
with  an  expressive  wink  in  the  direction  of  the  kitchen. 
"  Wuth  a  hull  passel  o'  the  ord'nary  run,  ain't  she  ?  " 

Weston  glanced  at  Dicky,  who  was  absorbed  in  con- 
templation of  an  old  musket,  hanging  on  the  wall,  and 
then  nodded  his  reply  so  expressively,  that  the  squire 


254  THE  STAKE 

in  a  moment  of  gleeful  abstraction,  brought  his  hand 
down  with  a  whack  upon  his  knee,  and  then  gave  a 
groan  of  pain. 

"  Plague  take  this  rheumatiz !  "  he  growled.  "  I  guess 
ye'll  hev  t'  take  my  place  ag'in  to-morrer." 

"Of  course!"  replied  Weston.  "I  expected  to  do 
so." 

"  After  to-morrer,  if  I'm  still  laid  up,  Sile  c'n  'tend 
to  it.  He'll  be  through  mowin'  by  thet  time.  He'd  ha' 
finished  to-day,  if  it  wan't  fer  th'  rain." 

"Does  that  gun  go  off?"  inquired  Dicky,  pointing 
to  the  musket. 

"  It  hes  done  some  shootin'  in  its  day,"  remarked  the 
squire,  casting  a  look  of  pride  at  the  old  weapon.  "  But 
it's  got  rheumatiz  in  its  bones,  same  as  I  hev,  an'  ain't 
good  fer  much.  We're  gittin'  old  together." 

"  I  suppose  it  makes  a  noise,"  said  Dicky,  thought- 
fully. 

"  Like  thunder  an'  light'nin !  "  replied  the  squire. 

"  Did  it  ever  kill  —  a  —  man  ?  "  inquired  the  boy, 
blinking  slowly. 

"  Lots  on  'em.     Deader'n  a  doornail." 

"  My ! "  gasped  Dicky,  backing  away  from  the  wall, 
with  his  eyes  fastened  upon  the  silent  messenger  of 
fate. 

"  An'  ev'ry  time  it  killed  a  man,  it  hollered  an'  kicked 
like  mad." 

"  Were  you  in  the  war?  "  asked  Weston. 

"  Four  year,"  replied  the  squire,  straightening  his 
shoulders,  and  holding  his  head  erect.  "  An'  never  got 
hit  oncet,"  he  added  with  a  sigh. 


THE  STAKE  255 

"  That  was  lucky." 

"Didn't  seem  nat'ral,  though." 

"  You  ought  to  be  thankful.' 

"  I  suppose  I  orter,  but  somehow  it  seems  's  though 
a  man  ain't  done  much  fer  his  country,  'thout  spill  in' 
a  leetle  blood.  I  didn't  even  git  scratched.  The  near- 
est I  come  to  it  was  when  me  an'  four  other  fellers 
got  ambushed  down  near  Richmond.  That  was  in  the 
Wilderness  fight.  Ole  Grant,  he  was  a-shovin'  us 
for'ard  an  inch  at  a  time,  an'  I  guess  we  thought  it  was 
too  slow.  Anyhow,  we  fellers  was  doin'  a  leetle  scout- 
in'  'tween  th'  lines,  an'  went  too  fur.  They  was  about 
fifty  on  'em.  They  hollered  *  surrender,'  an'  one  of 
our  fellers  yelled  'go  t'  hell.'  (Excuse  me  fer  sayin' 
a  swear-word,  but  that  was  jes'  what  I  —  what  our 
man  said.)  An'  it  was  hell  fer  a  few  minutes.  I  don't 
know  haow  I  got  away,  but  I  did.  An'  th'  darn  cusses 
never  touched  me  oncet.  Jes'  shot  off  my  cap,  an'  tore 
a  hole  through  my  coat,  an'  split  th'  stock  o'  my  gun. 
Ye  c'n  see  it  now." 

He  pointed  to  the  musket,  his  face  lighted  up  with 
the  memory  of  the  fight. 

"  And  your  companions  ?  "  inquired  Weston. 

"Killed!     Ev'ry  one  on 'em." 

"  Oh,  my ! "  gasped  Dicky,  gazing  at  the  squire,  with 
eyes  and  mouth  wide  open.  Then  after  a  moment's 
pause,  he  added: 

"  That's  a  better  story  than  mine." 

"Yes,  my  lad!  And  th'  wust  of  it  is,  th'  story's 
true." 

The  old  man  shook  his  head  sadly,  and  sat  for  a  few 


256  THE  STAKE 

minutes  in  silence.  Suddenly  the  kitchen  door  opened 
and  Mrs.  Guilford  entered  with  a  tray  of  dishes. 

"  Seems  t'  me,"  she  cried,  "  ye  ain't  very  sociable, 
settin'  here  solemn  as  spooks.  I  s'pose  ye're  hungry. 
Waal,  supper'll  be  ready  in  a  few  minutes  now.  Me 
an'  Louise  has  got  th'  shortcake  in  th'  oven.  Ye  see 
I  call  her  Louise  now.  She  tol'  me  to,  'cause  I  can't 
never  remember  her  other  name." 

It  was  a  merry  party  which  surrounded  the  table, 
soon  afterwards.  Weston  and  Louise  sat  beside  each 
other, —  a  maneuver  skillfully  executed  by  Mrs.  Guil- 
ford, who  took  one  final  look  over  the  table,  before  sit- 
ting down  on  the  edge  of  her  chair,  which  was  placed 
far  enough  from  the  table  to  enable  her  to  make  an 
easy  run  for  the  kitchen. 

"  Ask  th'  blessin',  Ezry,"  she  said,  and  the  squire 
mumbled  a  grace,  short  enough  to  satisfy  even  Dicky, 
who  was  eyeing  impatiently  the  plate  of  hot  biscuit,  and 
the  honey  which  was  to  go  with  them. 

With  cheeks  blazing  from  the  heat  of  the  kitchen 
stove,  and  eyes  sparkling  with  pleasure,  Louise  was  a 
picture  of  beauty.  The  unconventionality  of  the  oc- 
casion seemed  to  remove  the  last  trace  of  that  embar- 
rassment which  she  had  felt  in  Weston's  presence.  It 
seemed  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world,  that  they 
should  be  sitting  side  by  side,  and  she  calmly  accepted 
the  devotion  which  he  showed  in  every  word  and  act. 

"  Ye  must  ha'  got  some  o'  th'  strawberries  on  yer 
cheeks,  Miss,"  remarked  the  squire.  "  An'  it  becomes 
ye  mighty  well.  I  guess  they's  others  thinks  th'  same, 
too." 


THE  STAKE  257 

He  chuckled  to  himself  and  winked  knowingly  to 
Weston. 

"  Ezry ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Guilford,  frowning  and 
shaking  her  head.  "  Yew  ain't  licensed  t'  speak  that 
way  t'  Miss  Ell  —  Ell  —  drat  it  —  I  allus  git  mixed  on 
names." 

"Oh,  ho!  Gittin'  jealous,  air  ye?"  inquired  the 
squire  with  a  grin.  "  Don't  blame  ye.  A  purty  face 
allus  turns  my  head.  Thet  was  what  happened  when  I 
married  you." 

"  Now,  that  was  a  lovely  compliment,"  remarked 
Louise,  smiling  at  Mrs.  Guilford.  "  You  ought  to  be 
proud  of  such  a  husband." 

"  Oh,  shucks !  He's  jes'  jokin',"  said  Mrs.  Guilford, 
smoothing  back  her  hair,  and  straightening  the  black 
ribbon  at  her  throat.  "  Though  I  ain't  sayin'  but 
Ezry's  been  a  good  husband.  Forty  years  we've  lived 
together,  an'  got  along  peaceable.  I  hope  your  husband 
will  suit  you  as  well." 

"  If  ever  I  have  one,"  said  Louise,  bending  over  her 
plate. 

"  I'll  marry  you,  Aunt  Louise,"  mumbled  Dicky,  with 
a  mouth  full  of  cottage  cheese. 

"  Good !  Good !  "  cried  the  squire,  sitting  back  in 
his  chair  and  roaring  with  laughter.  "  Have  some  more 
ham  an'  'taters,  young  feller.  Yew've  got  t'  grow  fast, 
or  somebody '11  git  ahead  of  ye,  an'  steal  yer  gal." 

"  Do  you  realize,  Miss  Ellsworth,"  said  Weston,  anx- 
ious to  relieve  her  embarrassment,  "  that  this  isn't  the 
first  time  you  have  enjoyed  Mrs.  Guilford's  fine  cook- 
ing. It  was  her  forethought  which  provided  the  lunch, 


258  THE  STAKE 

—  that  famous  lunch  which  saved  us  from  starvation, 
when  we  were  marooned  on  the  island." 

"  There !  "  cried  Mrs.  Guilford.  "  I'm  glad  you  re- 
minded me  of  it.  I  want  you,  Miss  Ellbert,  t'  tell  us 
about  your  bein'  on  the  island  together.  Mr.  Weston, 
he  wouldn't  ever  say  much  about  it.  Jes'  said  ye  was 
shipwrecked,  an'  he  found  ye,  an'  kind  o'  took  care  o' 
ye,  'til  he  c'd  git  ye  ashore." 

"  Is  that  all  he  told  you  ?  "  said  Louise  with  height- 
ened color. 

"  Mighty  little  he  would  say,"  exclaimed  the  squire. 

"  Then  you  shall  hear  it  from  me." 

"  Be  careful  now,"  laughed  Weston,  "  I  am  here,  a 
witness  to  the  truth." 

"  Go  on,  Aunt  Louise,"  cried  Dicky,  his  interest,  for 
the  moment,  overcoming  his  appetite. 

With  a  slight  hesitation,  at  first,  but  soon  speaking 
with  clear  voice,  Louise  told  the  dramatic  story  in  which 
she  and  the  man  at  her  side  were  the  sole  actors.  In 
her  desire  to  bear  witness  in  his  presence,  to  the  sin- 
cerity of  her  gratitude,  and  to  justify  herself  for  her 
apparent  neglect  and  indifference,  she  magnified  his 
deeds  and  his  services,  until  she  unconsciously  betrayed 
a  depth  of  feeling  which  surprised  even  herself.  When 
she  came  to  the  end  of  her  story,  she  turned  a  fright- 
ened glance  towards  Weston,  her  voice  faltered,  and 
she  suddenly  rose  from  the  table. 

" That's  all,"  she  murmured.  "I  —  I  must  go  home 
now.  Come,  Dicky." 

"  Do  I  have  to  go  now  ? "  complained  the  boy. 
"  We've  just  got  started  telling  stories." 


THE  STAKE  259 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  girl  nervously,  "  your  mamma 
will  be  wondering  what  has  become  of  us." 

"  I  hate  t'  hev  ye  go  so  soon,"  said  Mrs.  Guilford, 
cordially.  "  Seems  's  though  ye  hedn't  eat  hardly  any- 
thin'." 

"It  has  been  a  delicious  supper,"  declared  Louise, 
smiling,  as  she  began  to  regain  her  self-possession.  "  I 
really  ought  to  stay  and  help  you  clear  off  the  table. 
But  I'm  coming  again,  if  I  may." 

"  Come  's  often  's  ye  can,  my  dear.  I  never  hed  a 
daughter  of  my  own,  an*  I  seem  t'  hev  took  t'  you  's 
if  I  wuz  yer  mother." 

"  It's  very  sweet  of  you  to  say  so,"  replied  the  girl, 
as  she  put  on  her  hat. 

Weston,  who  had  stood  in  silence,  watching  her  with 
a  look  of  absorbed  interest,  came  forward  and  took 
her  wrap  from  her. 

"  Wait  a  moment,"  he  said,  "  until  I  get  the  car- 
riage." 

"  It  isn't  necessary,"  she  replied.  "  We  can  walk  just 
as  well,  can't  we,  Dicky  ?  " 

"  But  you  will  let  me  go  with  you  ?  " 

"  It  isn't  dark.    Dicky  and  I  can  find  our  way." 

"May  I  go?" 

"If  — if  you  care  to." 

In  that  walk  to  the  hotel,  the  silence  of  the  summer 
evening  was  almost  unbroken,  save  for  the  merry  chat- 
ter of  Dicky,  who  danced  gayly  beside  the  dreaming 
lovers,  like  some  twentieth  century  Cupid.  The  rays 
of  the  setting  sun,  darting  through  rifts  in  the  scattering 
storm-clouds,  seemed  to  tint  the  atmosphere  about  them 


260  THE  STAKE 

a  roseate  hue;  along  the  pathway  down  the  hill,  the 
fragrance  of  the  wild-flowers  rose  like  incense;  from 
the  top  of  a  tree,  a  grosbeak  sang  joyously  to  his  mate. 
It  was  a  time  for  romantic  fancies,  and  the  two  yielded 
to  the  spell  of  the  hour. 

As  they  approached  the  hotel,  the  sound  of  voices  and 
laughter  aroused  them  from  their  dreams,  and  Louise, 
hastening  her  steps,  said  nervously : 

"  We  must  hurry,  Dicky.  Your  mother  will  wonder 
what  has  become  of  us." 

"  She  knows  we're  with  Mr.  Crusoe,"  cried  the  boy, 
"  so  she  needn't  be  afraid.  You're  kind  o'  like  one  of 
the  family,  ain't  you,  Mr.  Crusoe  ?  " 

Then  without  waiting  to  see  the  effect  of  this  happy 
suggestion,  he  ran  ahead  of  them,  exclaiming: 

"  There's  mamma  now,  sitting  with  Mr.  Travis." 

At  the  foot  of  the  steps  Weston  paused. 

"  I'll  have  to  say  good  night  here,"  he  said. 

"  Aren't  you  coming  in  ?  "  asked  Louise. 

"  Not  now.  I'm  hardly  presentable  after  my  day  on 
the  stage." 

He  held  out  his  hand.  She  allowed  hers  to  rest  in  it 
for  a  moment,  and  then  withdrawing  it  gently,  said : 

"  Good  night,—  Mr.  Crusoe." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

ALL  nature  seemed  jubilant  in  the  bright  light  of  a 
perfect  June  day.  The  earth,  refreshed  by  the 
storm  of  yesterday,  was  fragrant  with  the  moist  odor 
of  the  grass  and  the  wild  flowers.  In  every  tree-top 
birds  were  singing  joyfully.  Overhead,  swallows  poised 
and  swooped  in  delight  of  freedom.  Across  the  open, 
sped  thrush  and  lark  in  straight-away  flight.  The 
robins  strutted  over  the  turf,  feasting  upon  a  new  sup- 
ply of  worms,  which  the  rain  had  brought  to  the  sur- 
face. A  quail,  perched  upon  a  fence-post,  uttered  its  two 
flute-like  notes,  and  flew  away,  as  the  stage  rattled  along 
the  rocky  road. 

In  the  heart  of  Dick  Weston  the  voices  of  nature 
found  a  responsive  echo.  Happy  in  the  full  knowledge 
of  his  love  for  Louise  Ellsworth,  he  tried  to  recall  each 
word  she  had  spoken  the  evening  before,  and  sought  for 
some  assurance  that  his  love  was  returned.  In  spite 
of  a  feeling  that  she  was  not  indifferent  to  him  —  that 
perhaps  she  loved  him, —  there  came  the  fear  that  he 
had  mistaken  gratitude  for  a  deeper  sentiment. 

But  he  put  this  disturbing  thought  aside,  and  took 
courage  from  the  strength  of  his  own  love,  confident 
that  it  must  finally  win. 

At  the  station,  the  horses  halted  in  their  usual  place, 
and  Weston,  springing  from  the  stage,  carried  the  mail- 


262  THE  STAKE 

pouch  to  the  front,  where  he  found  the  perspiring  Abner 
busy  loading  a  truck  for  the  down  train,  which  was  due 
in  a  few  minutes. 

"  Haow  air  ye  to-day  ?  "  inquired  the  overworked  of- 
ficial, pausing  a  moment  to  wipe  his  brow.  "  Haow's 
th'  square  gittin'  along?" 

"  Not  so  well  this  morning,"  replied  Weston. 

"  He's  been  poorly  fer  'most  a  week  naow,"  drawled 
Abner.  "  Gittin'  old,  I  s'pose.  I  tol'  him  only  las' 
Sat'day  week,  he  orter  lay  off,  an'  give  th'  job  to  some 
one  else.  Jes'  's  soon  take  it  myself.  It's  kind  o'  lonely 
'raound  here,  an'  mean  hours,  an'  darn  hard  work.  It 
beats  all  haow  an  ol'  feller  like  th'  square'll  hang  on  an' 
hang  on." 

The  shrill  whistle  of  the  south-bound  train  put  a  stop 
to  his  complaining,  and  he  wheeled  the  truck  down  the 
platform,  leaving  Weston  standing  idly  watching  the 
approaching  locomotive.  There  was  the  noise  of  escap- 
ing steam,  the  whistle  of  the  airbrakes,  one  or  two 
shrieks  from  the  reluctant  wheels,  and  the  train  stopped. 
Weston  exchanged  indifferent  glances  with  the  row  of 
strange  faces  at  the  windows,  while  the  impatient  con- 
ductor watched  the  loading  and  unloading  of  express 
matter,  ready  to  give  the  signal  to  the  engineer  as  soon 
as  possible.  No  passengers  alighted.  One  or  two  came 
out  upon  the  platform  and  gazed  curiously  at  the  al- 
most deserted  station,  wondering,  no  doubt,  how  any- 
one could  choose  to  live  in  such  a  spot.  There  was  a 
shout  from  the  conductor,  a  clanging  of  the  bell,  the 
train  moved  slowly  away,  and  Abner  with  bent  shoul- 
ders, and  an  expression  of  despair  upon  his  face, 


THE  STAKE  263 

dragged  the  heavily-loaded  truck  along  the  platform  to 
the  depot. 

"  I'm  gittin'  darn  tired  o'  this,"  he  grumbled,  as  he 
dropped  the  heavy  handle  of  the  truck,  and  looked  down 
the  road  at  the  retreating  train.  "  I'd  ruther  do  har- 
vestin'." 

"Why  don't  you  quit?"  asked  Weston  good-na- 
turedly. "  I  don't  blame  you  for  disliking  the  work. 
Why  don't  you  try  to  find  another  job  ?  " 

"  Ain't  got  time,"  drawled  Abner,  helplessly.  "  Got 
a  wife  an'  baby  in  there,  an'  dassent  leave  'em." 

"  But  you'll  have  to  make  a  start  some  time,  unless 
you  expect  to  stay  here  all  your  life." 

The  man  cast  a  weary  look  at  the  pile  of  boxes  to  be 
transferred  to  the  freight-room,  and  said  with  a  sigh: 

"  Gosh !     I  wish  I  could,  but  I  don't  know  how  tV 

Weston  smothered  an  exclamation  of  disgust.  He 
could  understand  the  craving  of  the  human  soul,  am- 
bitious to  succeed  and  desirous  of  advancement,  but  he 
had  no  sympathy  for  a  fault-finder  who  would  make 
no  effort  to  break  away  from  his  discontent.  Like 
many  a  young  man  just  starting  out  in  his  career,  with 
health,  education,  ample  means,  and  no  obligations,  he 
had  no  thought  for  those  obstacles  and  hindrances 
which  meet  a  man  throughout  his  life, —  disappoint- 
ments and  defeats,  not  anticipated,  but  likely  to  come 
to  anyone. 

Although  his  own  plans  had  been  interrupted  by  his 
illness,  he  had  learned,  in  response  to  his  inquiries, 
that  the  position  promised  him  was  still  open.  As  he 
looked  at  the  poor  station  master,  laboriously  loading 


264  THE  STAKE 

his  truck  for  the  next  train,  he  compared,  with  some 
self-satisfaction,  this  man's  lot  with  his  own. 

"What  a  fate!"  he  thought  "Exiled  for  life  in 
such  a  forlorn  spot!  To  see  daily  the  faces  of  men 
of  all  conditions  of  life  roll  by  on  those  shining  rails, 
bound  upon  business  or  pleasure,  upon  errands  of 
mercy  or  of  sorrow;  seeking  fortune  or  fame;  jour- 
neying up  and  down  the  earth  in  restless  activity;  to 
see  all  this,  and,  standing  idly  by,  to  take  root  in  the 
obscurity  of  a  country  way  station!  What  a  life  to 
lead !  "  Weston  thought  of  the  man's  hopeless  accept- 
ance of  his  fate,  of  the  wife  and  child  deprived  of  so 
much  which  would  make  their  lives  more  beautiful,  and 
there  came  to  him  the  sudden  thrilling  thought  of  the 
woman  he  loved.  His  wife !  Dared  he  hope  for  such 
happiness?  If  only  she  could  be  his,  what  would  he 
not  do  for  her! 

"  There  she  comes !  "  shouted  Abner. 

"Who?"  exclaimed  Weston,  springing  to  his  feet 
in  bewilderment. 

"  Th'  express.     Can't  ye  hear  her  ?  " 

"  Oh !    The  express !  "  said  Weston  lamely. 

"  Yes.  She's  doo  at  two-forty-seven.  It's  two- 
fifty-six  now.  'Baout  ten  minutes  late." 

He  rolled  his  truck  to  the  other  end  of  the  platform, 
while  Weston,  impatient  to  be  leaving,  stood  with  his 
hands  in  his  pockets  and  watched  the  train  as  it  rolled 
majestically  alongside  of  the  station.  Three  coaches, 
a  dining  car,  a  parlor  car,  and  a  sleeper,  vestibuled  and 
furnished  with  the  latest  appliances,  with  the  attendant 
baggage  and  express  cars,  made  up  the  celebrated 


THE  STAKE  265 

"  Coast  Express."  Within  its  dusty  and  grimy  exterior 
it  carried  each  day  the  luxurious  appointments  of  a 
princely  home,  through  towns  and  villages  where  the 
lives  of  men  were  spent  amidst  the  commonest  sur- 
roundings; carried  its  magnificence  of  polished  metal, 
rich  tapestries,  and  inlaid  woodwork  across  deserted 
landscapes  of  sand  and  marsh  and  rock;  perhaps  on 
some  fatal  day  to  leave  its  shattered  elegance,  a  heap 
of  worthless  junk,  in  some  isolated  spot,  an  offering  of 
human  lives  and  human  energies  to  the  great  speed- 
god. 

From  the  sleeping  car  there  alighted  a  dignified  and 
portly  gentleman  obsequiously  attended  by  the  porter, 
while  from  the  parlor  car  stepped  another  passenger 
with  suit-case  in  hand.  As  Weston  observed  this  latter 
gentleman,  he  uttered  an  exclamation  of  surprise,  and 
came  forward  with  outstretched  hand. 

"  Dr.  Stewart !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  What  brings  you 
here?" 

"What?  You,  Jenkins?"  replied  the  doctor,  with 
a  cordial  hand-shake.  "  Well,  well !  You've  certainly 
improved  in  appearance  since  I  last  saw  you.  I  must 
have  done  an  extra  fine  job  in  your  case." 

"  Perhaps  you'd  like  to  increase  the  size  of  your 
bill,"  said  Weston,  laughing. 

"  Your  friend  from  out  West  settled  that  question. 
By  the  way,  are  you  still  Bill  Jenkins,  or  — 

"  Beg  pardon ! "  remarked  a  voice  at  his  elbow. 
"  Could  you  inform  me  —  why,  Stewart !  Is  this 
you?" 

"  Senator  Ellsworth ! "  exclaimed  the  doctor  in  sur- 


266  THE  STAKE 

prise.  "Where  in  the  world  did  you  come  from? 
Were  you  on  this  train  ?  " 

"  Yes,  in  the  sleeper." 

"  And  I  was  in  the  parlor  car." 

"  Sorry  I  missed  you,"  remarked  the  senator,  as  the 
train  moved  away.  Then  stopping  the  station  master 
as  he  passed  them,  dragging  his  usual  burden,  he  said : 

"  My  good  fellow !  How  am  I  to  get  to  —  a  —  to  — 
let  me  see  —  what  is  the  name  of  the  place  — " 

"  Atherton's  Cove  ?  "  suggested  the  doctor. 

"  Yes.    That's  it.    Well,  how  can  I  get  there?  " 

"  He'll  take  ye  over  in  th'  stage,"  replied  Abner,  in- 
dicating Weston  with  a  jerk  of  his  head,  and  contin- 
uing onward  with  his  burden. 

"  If  you  gentlemen  are  both  bound  for  Atherton's 
Cove,"  remarked  Weston,  "  you'll  find  the  stage  back 
of  the  depot.  I'll  be  along  as  soon  as  I  get  the  mail- 
bag." 

"  Well,  be  quick  about  it,  young  man,"  said  the  sen- 
ator. "  I  have  an  important  business  engagement,  and 
mustn't  be  delayed.  And  just  bring  those  two  bags 
of  mine  with  you.  Come,  Stewart,  let's  see  what  kind 
of  a  conveyance  we  have." 

The  two  gentlemen  passed  on  around  the  corner  of 
the  depot,  leaving  Weston  standing  irresolutely  gazing 
at  the  two  heavy  bags  which  the  porter  had  left  at 
the  farthest  end  of  the  platform.  With  a  shrug  of  his 
shoulders,  he  accepted  the  task,  laughing  to  himself  as 
he  thought  of  the  important  business  which  called  Sen- 
ator Ellsworth  to  the  Cove. 

"  I'll  tell  Rankin  to  add  another  fifty  dollars  to  his 


THE  STAKE  267 

price,  just  to  pay  me  for  this  job,"  He  muttered,  as  he 
picked  up  the  senator's  luggage. 

"  Is  this  the  best  you  can  do  for  us  ?  "  inquired  the 
senator  sharply,  as  Weston  reached  the  stage  and 
threw  his  burden  on  the  front  seat. 

"  The  senator  is  used  to  rubber  tires,"  remarked 
Stewart,  an  amused  expression  on  his  face,  as  he  ob- 
served the  frown  with  which  Weston  received  his  com- 
panion's complaint. 

"I'm  sorry,"  replied  Weston,  dryly.  "This  is  the 
only  conveyance  to  Atherton's." 

"An  enterprising  fellow  with  a  carriage  would  run 
you  out  in  no  time,"  said  the  senator,  as  he  climbed  into 
the  stage. 

Weston  shrugged  his  shoulders,  but  made  no  other 
reply. 

"  Come,  come !  "  exclaimed  the  senator.  "  You're 
wasting  time.  Get  in  and  start  your  horses.  If  we 
must  ride  in  this  old  ramshackle  affair,  let's  get  through 
with  it  as  soon  as  possible.  And  see  here!  Put  those 
bags  down  on  the  floor,  and  keep  your  eye  on  them. 
I  don't  want  them  to  fall  out.  What  are  you  laughing 
at,  Stewart?" 

Weston,  who  at  first  was  inclined  to  resent  the 
senator's  overbearing  manner,  caught  the  sparkle  of 
merriment  in  the  doctor's  eye,  saw  the  ludicrous  side 
of  the  situation,  and  joined  in  the  laughter. 

"  This  may  be  very  entertaining  for  you  and  this 
man,"  remarked  the  senator  with  frigid  dignity,  "  but 
it  is  very  annoying  to  me,  for  I'm  in  a  hurry." 

"  Go  on,  Bill  Jenkins,"  cried  the  doctor,  as  W'eston 


268  THE  STAKE 

gathered  up  the  lines  and  started  the  horses.  "  You're 
still  under  my  orders,  if  you  have  paid  your  bill." 

"  Oh ! "  said  the  senator,  thawing  slightly.  "  A 
patient  of  yours,  eh  ?  " 

"  Yes.  But  one  of  your  own  making,"  said  the  doc- 
tor with  a  laugh. 

"How's  that?" 

"Don't  you  remember  the  celebrated  Bill  Jenkins?" 

"Jenkins?    The  name  does  sound  familiar." 

"  The  victim  of  a  bad  accident,  in  which  he  was 
run  down  in  the  streets  of  Boston  by  Senator  Ells- 
worth's carriage  ?  " 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  the  senator.  "  You  don't  mean 
it !  Here,  my  man !  " 

He  leaned  forward,  and  tapped  Weston  on  the  back. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  inquired  the  latter,  turning  slightly. 

"Are  you  the  man  who  was  injured?  —  sure  enough, 
so  you  are.  I  remember  your  face,  now.  Glad  to  see 
you  again,  my  poor  fellow,  and  looking  so  well,  too. 
How  are  you  getting  on  ?  And  your  family  —  how  are 
they?  I  always  intended  to  do  something  for  you,  but 
Mrs.  Carson  took  charge  of  you,  and  the  matter  passed 
out  of  my  mind.  Did  I  understand  you  to  say,  Doctor, 
that  he  paid  your  bill?  I  can't  allow  that.  Let  me 
know  the  amount,  and  I'll  send  him  a  check  for  it.  Is 
there  anything  else  I  can  do  for  you,  Jenkins  ?  " 

"  Thank  you  kindly,  sir,"  began  Weston,  disposed  to 
ridicule  the  proposition.  Then  remembering  that  it 
was  Louise's  father  speaking  —  that  his  offer  was  made 
in  a  spirit  of  kindness,  and  that  his  rudeness  was  due 
tc  ignorance  of  the  facts,  he  said  decidedly : 


THE  STAKE  269 

"You  owe  me  nothing.  Dr.  Stewart's  bill  was  paid 
by  a  friend  of  mine." 

The  senator  turned  to  his  companion,  who  nodded  his 
head,  and  changed  the  subject  by  inquiring  of  Weston: 

"  How  far  do  we  have  to  go?  " 

"  About  ten  miles,"  replied  Weston,  and  the  two 
passengers  with  looks  of  mingled  disgust  and  resigna- 
tion, settled  back  in  their  seats,  in  silent  endurance  of 
the  ordeal. 

"  Can't  you  touch  up  your  horses  a  little,  Jenkins  ?  " 
suggested  the  senator,  after  they  had  been  driving  for 
an  hour. 

"  This  is  the  last  hill,"  replied  Weston.  "  It's  down 
grade  after  we  reach  the  top." 

At  the  point  where  the  first  sight  of  the  ocean  sud- 
denly burst  into  view,  the  horses  stopped  as  usual,  and 
Weston,  to  whom  the  scene  was  always  a  delight,  made 
no  effort  to  start  them. 

"  Well,  what  are  we  stopping  for,  now  ? "  ex- 
claimed the  senator,  impatiently. 

Weston  made  no  reply,  and  they  continued  on  down 
the  hill. 

"  Fine  view,  Senator,"  remarked  the  doctor,  upon 
whom  the  scene  made  an  impression,  even  though  it 
were  lost  upon  his  companion. 

"  Very  fine,"  replied  the  senator,  with  an  indifferent 
glance  over  the  landscape.  "  Driver,  which  is  the  best 
hotel  in  your  town?" 

"  There  is  only  one  —  the  '  Ocean  View/  "  answered 
Weston. 

"  Only  one  ?    I  thought  this  was  a  summer  resort !  " 


270  THE  STAKE 

"  It  is,  for  a  few  persons  who  are  fond  of  the  place." 

"  And  only  one  hotel,"  mused  the  senator. 
"  Crowded,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Not  now." 

"  The  situation  does  look  attractive,  Stewart,"  said 
the  senator,  casting  his  eyes  about.  "  It  might  be 
made  into  a  popular  resort.  A  well-managed  company 
might  boom  the  place  with  a  little  effort;  put  up  an- 
other hotel,  have  it  advertised  as  a  health-resort  — 
salt  baths  —  sun  baths  —  hum  —  ah  —  I  may  look  into 
this." 

In  due  time  the  stage  drew  up  in  front  of  the  hotel, 
and  Weston,  searching  among  the  groups  of  boarders 
sitting  upon  the  piazza,  was  able  to  distinguish  Louise 
Ellsworth  standing  beside  Travis.  Although  her  face 
was  turned  towards  him,  and  she  must  have  known  of 
his  presence,  he  could  not  catch  her  eye.  He  felt  sure 
that  she  saw  him,  and  yet  she  continued  talking  and 
laughing  with  Travis,  appearing  to  give  no  thought 
to  the  man  who  sat  there  looking  up  to  her  with  the 
hunger  of  love  in  his  eyes,  and  a  cloud  of  disappoint* 
ment  creeping  over  his  face. 

"  Come,  come,  driver !  Why  don't  you  get  my  bags 
out  ?  "  exclaimed  Senator  Ellsworth,  who  had  alighted 
from  the  stage. 

"  Here  they  are,"  said  Weston  gruffly,  lifting  the  bags 
within  reach. 

"  But  you  don't  expect  me  to  carry  them  in,  do 
you?" 

"Just  set  them  down.  The  porter  will  get  them," 
replied  Weston,  shortly. 


THE  STAKE  271 

At  this  moment  there  was  a  cry  of  surprise,  a  rustle 
of  skirts,  and  Louise  came  running  down  the  steps. 

"  Oh,  you  dear  old  daddy ! "  she  cried,  as  she  threw 
her  arms  about  her  father's  neck.  "  Why  didn't  you 
tell  me  you  were  coming  to-day  ?  " 

"  Didn't  you  get  my  telegram  ?  " 

"  Telegram  ?  "  exclaimed  Travis,  who  had  joined  the 
group.  "  Telegrams  don't  reach  this  place.  You 
might  as  well  be  in  the  Desert  of  Sahara,  so  far  as  com- 
munication with  the  rest  of  the  world  is  concerned." 

"  Here,  porter,  take  these  bags,"  called  Weston 
sharply  from  his  seat  on  the  stage. 

Travis  glanced  at  his  rival  with  a  grin;  the  senator 
looked  sourly  at  his  unruly  driver ;  but  Louise  appeared 
to  give  no  heed  to  the  man  sitting  only  a  few  feet  from 
her,  who  was  waiting  for  some  sign  of  recognition, 
until,  just  as  he  picked  up  the  lines  to  start  his  horses, 
he  heard  her  say: 

"  Shall  we  see  you  this  evening?" 

He  turned  and  found  her  looking  up  at  him,  with  a 
demure  expression  on  her  face,  back  of  which  he 
thought  he  detected  a  spirit  of  mischief.  He  hesitated 
a  moment,  uncertain  of  her  mood. 

"  Come,  Louise,"  called  her  father  from  the  top  of 
the  steps. 

For  an  instant  Weston  caught  a  glance,  in  which 
were  mingled  coquetry,  merriment,  and  a  smile  of  re- 
assurance. A  low  voice  said : 

"  We  shall  expect  you,  Mr.  Crusoe." 

The  next  moment  she  was  running  up  the  steps  to 
join  her  father  and  Travis. 


272  THE  STAKE 

"  Were  you  talking  with  that  driver,  Louise  ? "  in- 
quired the  senator,  with  a  frown. 

"Yes,  but—" 

"  You  make  strange  acquaintances,"  continued  her 
father. 

"  But  Father,  dear,  do  you  know  who  he  is  ?  "  she 
pleaded. 

"  Yes,  yes !  I  heard  his  whole  story,"  replied  the 
senator,  impatiently,  as  they  went  into  the  hotel.  "  I 
offered  to  pay  him  liberally." 

"  Did  you  ?  "  exclaimed  Travis,  with  sudden  interest. 
"Would  he  accept?" 

"  No,  he  wouldn't  name  any  figure,  so  I  didn't  dis- 
cuss it  any  further." 

"  It's  no  use,"  said  Travis,  shaking  his  head.  "  I 
know  how  stubborn  he  is." 

"  Well,  let's  drop  that  subject,"  said  the  senator,  with 
decision.  "  Louise,  will  you  look  after  my  things,  and 
see  that  I  have  a  good  room?  Mr.  Travis  and  I  have 
some  business  together." 

"  Now,  Travis,"  said  he,  when  they  had  retired  to 
a  secluded  spot,  "  where's  your  man  ?  I  want  to  get 
at  this  business  right  away." 

"  I'll  have  him  here  as  soon  as  possible.  Of  course, 
I  couldn't  tell  when  you  would  come,  so  I  made  no 
appointment  with  him." 

"  Get  word  to  him  at  once.  Let  me  see.  It's  five 
o'clock  now.  Better  have  him  here  at  seven.  He  can 
wait  if  I'm  not  through  dinner." 

Travis  smiled  to  himself  as  he  went  in  search  of 
Rankin,  and  could  not  repress  a  wish  that  the  senator 


THE  STAKE  273 

might  fail  in  his  negotiations,  if  only  to  prove  the  dif- 
ficulty under  which  he  himself  had  labored.  Rankin 
was  no  easy  proposition. 

Meanwhile,  at  the  farthest  end  of  the  piazza,  Dr. 
Stewart  was  trying  to  explain  to  Mrs.  Carson  the  rea- 
son for  his  unexpected  appearance. 

"  You  see,  I  was  in  doubt  from  your  letter  as  to 
Miss  Ellsworth's  real  condition.  A  man  in  my  pro- 
fession must  take  no  chances.  It  really  seemed  best 
that  I  see  her." 

"  It's  too  bad  that  I  should  have  brought  you  here 
for  nothing,"  remarked  Mrs.  Carson,  sweetly.  "  Louise 
is  perfectly  well.  She  has  found  another  physician, — 
one  she  likes  better." 

"Indeed!     Who  is  it?" 

"  Mr.  Weston." 

"Has  it  gone  that  far?" 

"  It  is  nearing  the  climax." 

"  Then  I  won't  be  needed." 

"  No,  Doctor,  I'm  afraid  your  journey  was  for 
nothing." 

"  Perhaps  not,"  said  Stewart.  "  I  haven't  been 
feeling  just  right  myself  for  several  days.  The  change 
may  do  me  good." 

"  You  are  overtaxing  your  strength,"  said  the  widow. 
"  You  need  an  assistant." 

"  I  came  to  that  conclusion  some  time  ago,"  said 
he,  looking  down  at  her  and  smiling  frankly. 

Mrs.  Carson  blushed,  and  turning  quickly  away, 
called  to  Dicky,  who  was  bounding  a  ball  against  the 
side  of  the  house. 


274  THE  STAKE 

"  Be  careful  of  the  windows,  Dicky.  Here  is  Dr. 
Stewart.  Won't  you  speak  to  him  ?  " 

"  How  do  you  do,  sir  ?  "  said  Dicky,  continuing  his 
play. 

"  Are  you  having  a  good  time  here,  Dicky  ?  "  called 
the  doctor. 

"  There's  nobody  to  play  with  except  Mr.  Crusoe, 
and  he's  got  to  drive  the  stage." 

Stewart  turned  to  Mrs.  Carson. 

"  Your  hero  seems  to  be  the  principal  attraction  of 
the  place.  Your  account  of  him  and  his  various  dis- 
guises, reads  like  a  romance." 

"  You  must  meet  him  under  his  changed  condi- 
tions." 

"  I  have,  already.  He  drove  us  over  in  the  stage. 
The  senator  and  he  crossed  swords  at  the  outset." 

"  Oh,  I  hope  Mr.  Weston  has  done  nothing  to  offend 
Louise's  father,"  said  Mrs.  Carson. 

"  Mr.  Jenkins  has,"  laughed  the  doctor,  as  he  told 
the  experiences  of  the  ride  from  the  station.  "  The 
senator  doesn't  suspect  that  he  is  Mr.  Weston.  If  I'm 
not  mistaken  the  young  fellow  will  prove  stubborn  in 
carrying  out  his  own  wishes." 

Two  hours  later,  Senator  Ellsworth,  coming  out 
from  his  dinner,  in  a  most  unamiable  mood,  provoked 
by  a  tough  steak  and  flavorless  coffee,  spied  Travis 
walking  up  and  down  in  the  hotel  office.  Calling  him 
to  his  side,  he  issued  his  orders  and  complaints  with 
the  air  of  one  who  is  in  the  habit  of  having  his  affairs 
move  along  without  discomfort  or  annoyance  to  him- 
self. 


THE  STAKE  275 

"  Where's  your  man,  Travis.  Let's  get  at  this  busi- 
ness promptly.  I  want  to  leave  this  place  as  soon 
as  I  can.  Better  take  him  to  my  room,  where  we  won't 
be  disturbed.  It  will  just  about  hold  us.  Best  room 
in  the  house  they  call  it.  A  miserable  hole  with  no 
bath.  But  it's  on  a  par  with  the  whole  outfit.  Never 
saw  such  a  place.  Bring  him  up,  and  have  paper,  pen 
and  ink  ready." 

The  senator  went  upstairs,  and  Travis  sought  Ran- 
kin,  where  he  had  left  him,  smoking  his  pipe  upon  the 
piazza.  He  found  him  in  conversation  with  Weston, 
who,  however,  nodded,  and  walked  away,  as  the  lawyer 
greeted  Rankin  with  the  information  that  Senator 
Ellsworth  was  ready  to  meet  him  now. 

"  The  senator  suggests  that  we  go  up  to  his  room 
where  we  won't  be  disturbed." 

"  No  smokin'  allowed  ?  "  inquired  Rankin,  removing 
his  cob  pipe  from  his  lips. 

"  You'll  find  a  supply  of  the  senator's  cigars  waiting 
for  us." 

"  Dope ! "  ejaculated  Rankin,  knocking  the  ashes 
from  his  pipe.  "  All  right,  young  feller !  I'm  yer 
huckleberry." 

Senator  Ellsworth's  room  adjoined  that  of  his 
daughter,  and  through  the  connecting  doorway  Louise 
witnessed  the  arrival  of  Travis  and  Rankin.  With  little 
knowledge  of  her  father's  affairs,  she  paid  no  attention 
to  the  conversation  which  followed  but  continued  read- 
ing her  book,  unconsciously  hearing  from  time  to  time, 
the  voices  in  the  adjoining  room. 

"You  say  you  are  authorized  to  deal  with  us  for 


276  THE  STAKE 

the  sale  of  this  land  ? "  inquired  the  senator,  preparing 
his  ground  for  attack. 

"  It  looks  thet  way,"  replied  Rankin  carelessly. 

"Written  authority?" 

"  Better  than  that.    I  got  his  word." 

"  Humph !     Hardly  regular,  is  it,  Mr.  Travis  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Weston  assured  me  that  Mr.  Rankin  was  his 
authorized  agent,"  replied  the  lawyer.  "  I  think  there 
will  be  no  trouble  on  that  score." 

"  Ye  c'n  bet  yer  life  on  thet,  my  son,"  remarked 
Rankin,  calmly. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Rankin,"  said  the  senator,  pompously, 
"  you  understand,  of  course,  the  purpose  of  this  inter- 
view ?  " 

"  I'm  a  leetle  slow,  Senator,"  replied  Rankin,  feeling 
in  his  pocket  for  his  pipe.  "  P'rhaps  ye'd  better  begin 
at  th'  beginnin'." 

"  This  land,"  began  the  senator,  in  an  easy  matter- 
of-fact  tone  of  voice ;  "  this  land  which  belongs  to 
your  friend,  Mr. —  Mr. —  what's  his  name  —  Weston 
—  has  attracted  my  attention  because  of  its  natural 
beauty,  and  —  and  other  considerations.  I  am  pre- 
pared to  buy  it,  provided  we  can  come  to  satisfactory 
terms." 

He  paused  to  observe  the  effect  of  his  words  upon 
his  hearer,  and  seeing  nothing  startling  in  Rankin's 
immovable  face,  he  continued : 

"  I  don't  mind  saying  at  once,  that  I  am  prepared 
to  pay  more  than  the  land  is  worth  —  or  appears  to  be 
worth." 

Rankin  smiled. 


THE  STAKE  277 

"  It  orter  be  easy  t'  trade  on  them  terms,"  he  re- 
marked. 

"  Have  a  cigar,"  said  the  senator. 

"  Much  obleeged.  I  b'lieve  I  will,  seem'  as  my  pipe 
ain't  quite  high-toned  enough  fer  yer  bedroom." 

"  Now,  what  would  you  say  the  land  is  worth,  Ran- 
kin  ? "  inquired  the  senator  mildly,  as  the  cigars  were 
lighted. 

"  It's  hard  t'  tell,"  replied  Rankin. 

"  But  you  have  some  figure  in  mind,  haven't  you  ?  " 

"  Waal,  ye  see,  I've  knowed  th'  land  ever  sence  Dick 
Weston  bought  it  'way  back  in  th'  sixties.  Me  an'  him 
lived  there  many  a  summer,  huntin'  an'  fishin'." 

"  Yes,"  remarked  the  senator,  encouragingly.  "  Any 
hunting  and  fishing  there  now  ?  " 

"  Lots  of  it.     'Though  'tain't  so  good's  it  was." 

"  I'm  fond  of  fishing,"  said  the  senator. 

"  Those  was  great  days,  but  I'm  old  now,  an'  ain't 
so  spry's  I  used  t'  be,"  continued  Rankin. 

"  We  are  all  growing  old  —  older,"  remarked  the  sen- 
ator, with  a  sigh.  "  Of  course,  your  friend,  being  dead, 
there  is  not  the  same  attraction  that  there  once  was, 
and  it  is  not  so  hard  to  let  the  old  place  go." 

"  No.  I  s'pose  it  might  's  well  be  sold.  Young  Dick 
don't  want  t'  keep  it,  an'  ol'  Dick's  gone.  I  remember 
when  he  bought  it.  Paid  three  hunnerd  dollars  fer  it. 
Yes,  sir.  Three  hunnerd ! " 

"  Three  hundred,"  said  the  senator,  nodding  his  head 
slowly.  "  It's  worth  more  than  that  now." 

"  Yes,  I  s'pose  it  is." 

"  About  how  much  do  you  think  it  is  worth  ?  " 


278  THE  STAKE 

"  Well,  we  c'n  figger  it  up.  I  see  ye've  got  paper 
an'  ink  ready.  S'posin'  ye  put  it  down." 

Travis  took  the  pen  and  drew  the  paper  towards  him. 
He  was  secretly  amused  at  the  look  of  satisfaction  upon 
the  senator's  face. 

"  There's  th'  three  hunnerd  dollars  th'  land  cost." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  senator,  and  Travis  put  the  amount 
down. 

"  Then  they's  txmt  forty  years  taxes." 

"All  right!    Put  them  down." 

"  They's  more  than  th'  land  cost  in  th'  fust  place. 
'Bout  four  hunnerd  dollars." 

"All  right!  Put  it  down.  That  makes  seven  hun- 
dred dollars." 

"  Yes,  but  they's  int'rest  on  th'  money  fer  all  thet 
time." 

"  Very  well !  Include  the  interest.  How  much  is 
that?" 

"  Waal,  we  figger  at  ten  per  cent,  out  our  way." 

"  Ten  per  cent. !     That's  a  pretty  high  rate,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Mebbe  it  is  in  Boston,  but  we  c'n  git  it  on  money 
up  in  Michigan." 

"  Put  it  in  the  price,  if  you  want  to.  How  much  is 
it?" 

"  I  make  it  twelve  hunnerd  dollars,"  said  Rankin, 
consulting  a  piece  of  paper  which  he  took  from  his 
pocket. 

"  Twelve  hundred  dollars ! "  exclaimed  the  senator. 
"As  much  as  that?" 

"  I  was  afraid  ye'd  think  it  was  too  much,"  said 
Rankin,  replacing  the  paper  in  his  pocket. 


THE  STAKE  279 

"  No,  no ! "  cried  the  senator,  hastily.  "  I  said  I 
would  pay  it,  and  I'll  stick  to  my  word.  That  makes 
nineteen  hundred  dollars,  doesn't  it,  Travis?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  lawyer,  with  a  puzzled  look  on  his 
face. 

"  Well,  is  that  all  ?  "  said  the  senator  sharply ;  he  was 
growing  impatient. 

"  I  think  ye  ought  t'  allow  sunthin'  fer  th'  old  cabin. 
It  ain't  in  very  good  shape;  kind  o'  tumbled  down  in 
spots,  but  it's  wuth  sunthin'." 

"  Call  it  worth  a  hundred  dollars,"  said  the  senator, 
shifting  uneasily  in  his  seat.  "  That's  an  even  two 
thousand  dollars.  Is  that  your  price  ? " 

"  Ye  might  say  that's  jest  th'  cost.  Seems  zo  they 
orter  be  some  profit  figgered." 

"  See  here,  Rankin !  I  haven't  time  to  waste,  figur- 
ing all  of  these  details.  I'll  give  you  five  thousand  dol- 
lars for  the  land  cash  down." 

"  Thet's  three  thousand  dollars  profit,  ain't  it?" 
drawled  Rankin. 

"  Yes.  Three  thousand  dollars.  You've  made  a 
good  trade." 

"  Hev  ye  got  it  down  ?  "  said  Rankin. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Travis,  his  heart  beating  rapidly. 

"How  does  it  look?" 

"  Here  are  the  items  you  gave  us,  footing  up  two 
thousand  dollars,  and  here  is  the  profit,  three  thousand 
dollars,  added  to  that,  making  a  total  of  five  thousand 
dollars." 

Rankin  leaned  over  the  table,  and  stretching  out  his 
lean  finger,  he  placed  it  upon  the  total. 


28o  THE  STAKE 

"  Now,  add  five  hunnerd  thousand  dollars  to  thet," 
he  said  deliberately. 

"  What ! "  shouted  the  senator,  springing  to  his  feet, 
while  Louise,  who  was  just  leaving  the  adjoining  room, 
could  not  avoid  hearing  what  followed. 

"  Man  alive !  "  cried  the  senator.  "  Do  you  mean  to 
say  that  you  want  five  hundred  thousand  dollars  for 
that  miserable  piece  of  land  ?  " 

"  Five  hunnerd  and  five  thousand,"  replied  Rankin, 
blinking  solemnly,  but  with  a  sparkle  in  his  eyes  which 
betrayed  secret  enjoyment  of  the  senator's  surprise. 
"  But  we'll  call  it  an  even  half  million  dollars.  Thet's 
the  price." 

"  It's  outrageous !  Why,  it's  nothing  but  a  waste  of 
forest  and  rock." 

"  An'  copper,"  added  Rankin. 

"  I'll  not  be  held  up  in  this  manner,"  fumed  the  sen- 
ator, losing  control  of  his  temper.  "  You  think  you 
can  force  me  to  pay  this  price,  but  you  cannot." 

"  I  ain't  worried.  The  land  won't  run  away,"  re- 
plied Rankin,  carelessly. 

"  I'll  not  talk  to  you  any  more,"  shouted  the  senator, 
shaking  his  finger  in  Rankin's  face.  "  I'll  deal  with 
your  principal.  That's  what  I'll  do.  Travis,  find  this 
man,  Weston,  and  bring  him  here.  You  can  go, 
Rankin,  I'm  through  with  you." 

"  I'll  wait  downstairs  'til  ye  call,"  replied  Rankin, 
as  he  left  the  room.  In  a  moment  he  put  his  head  in 
the  door,  and  called  out : 

"  I'll  send  Dick  up  to  see  ye,  ef  ye  want  him.  He's 
downstairs  now." 


THE  STAKE  281 

Travis  nodded  assent,  and  turned  to  the  senator,  who 
was  pacing  up  and  down  the  little  room. 

"  You  see,  Senator,  what  a  fellow  I  had  to  deal  with. 
I  couldn't  even  get  him  to  name  his  price,  but  I  sus- 
pected him  of  some  such  scheme  as  this." 

"  I  don't  care  to  hear  anything  about  your  failure," 
snapped  the  senator.  "  It's  enough  for  me  to  know  that 
I  have  been  humiliated  and  brow-beaten  by  this  old 
scamp.  But  I'll  get  the  better  of  him  yet.  We  must 
have  this  land  even  if  it  does  cost  half  a  million  dollars. 
It  means  everything  to  us.  Why,  Travis,  we  had  a 
report  from  our  man,  yesterday,  and  it's  the  biggest 
prospect  in  the  whole  range.  It  means  millions  —  mil- 
lions." 

There  was  a  tap  at  the  door  and  Weston  entered  the 
room. 

"  Good  evening,"  said  Travis.  "  This  is  Senator 
Ellsworth.  Senator,  I  believe  you  have  met  Mr.  Wes- 
ton before." 

The  senator,  recovering  his  dignity,  bowed,  and  then 
with  a  sudden  exclamation,  he  cried: 

"  Weston !  Weston !  I  thought  your  name  was  Jen- 
kins ! " 

"  That  was  a  mistake,  sir,"  said  Weston,  smiling. 
"  I  can  explain  some  other  time.  My  name  is  Weston. 
You  wished  to  see  me  ?  " 

"  Yes  —  yes,"  replied  the  senator,  wiping  his  brow 
with  his  handkerchief.  "  This  is  very  confusing.  Ex- 
cuse me.  You  are  the  Mr.  Weston  who  owns  this  land 
in  Michigan  ?  " 

"  Yes." 


THE  STAKE 

"  And  you  are  the  same  man  who  was  injured  by 
the  carelessness  of  my  coachman?" 

"  Yes." 

"  And  he  is  also  the  man  who  assisted  Miss  Ellsworth 
at  the  time  of  her  shipwreck,"  added  Travis.  He  could 
not  but  admire  the  man  as  he  stood  there,  prepared  to 
match  his  honesty  and  his  inexperience  against  this 
master  of  shrewdness. 

Meanwhile,  in  the  adjoining  room,  Louise,  so  ab- 
sorbed by  the  interest  of  what  she  could  not  help  hear- 
ing, never  thought  of  herself  as  an  eavesdropper,  and 
was  listening  breathlessly  to  the  words  which  came 
through  the  half -open  door. 

"  This  is  most  confusing  —  most  confusing,"  repeated 
the  senator,  as  he  sank  into  a  chair  and  stared  at  Wes- 
ton.  "  In  the  first  place,  young  man,  I  must  thank  you 
for  your  service  to  my  daughter.  I  would  be  glad  to 
reward  you  handsomely." 

"  That  matter  is  disposed  of,"  replied  Weston, 
shortly.  "  You  wished  to  see  me  about  the  purchase 
of  some  land,  I  believe." 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  senator,  and  his  face  resumed  its 
expression  of  keen  business  shrewdness.  "  I  want  to 
buy  your  land,  but  I  can't  deal  with  that  old  shark,  who 
is  acting  as  your  agent.  Do  you  know  what  price  he 
asked  me  for  the  land  ?  " 

"  I  think  he  said  it  was  five  hundred  thousand 
dollars,"  replied  Weston,  not  quite  able  to  conceal  a 
smile. 

"  That  was  it.  Five  hundred  thousand  dollars !  Just 
think  of  it !  Five  —  hundred  — thousand  —  dollars !  " 


THE  STAKE  283 

The  senator  rolled  the  figures  over  his  tongue,  as  if 
the  amount  represented  the  national  debt. 

"  If  that's  his  price,  you'll  have  to  pay  it,"  said  Wes- 
ton. 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  the  senator.  "  Do  you  mean  to 
uphold  him  in  his  extortion  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  really  think  the  land  is  worth  ?  "  asked 
Weston. 

The  senator  paused  a  moment  to  consider  what 
amount  might  satisfy  the  young  man,  and  then  re- 
plied: 

"  Say  fifty  thousand  dollars  —  possibly  a  little  more. 
I  think  I  would  venture  to  offer  fifty  thousand  dollars." 

"  Rankin  will  never  sell  for  that  amount." 

"  I'm  not  dealing  with  Rankin.  I'm  dealing  with 
you,"  declared  the  senator  emphatically. 

"  Oh !  "  replied  Weston.  "  I  know  nothing  about  the 
land.  You'll  have  to  settle  it  with  Rankin." 

"  See  here,  Weston !  "  exclaimed  the  senator,  angrily. 
"  Are  you  playing  with  me  ?  If  you're  trying  to  get 
money  out  of  me  because  you  think  I  am  under  obliga- 
tions to  you,  say  so,  and  I'll  know  how  to  deal  with 
you." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that?  "  asked  Weston.  "  Do 
you  dare  to  insinuate  — " 

"  Yes,  I  dare  to  insinuate  that  you  are  trying  to  take 
advantage  of  me,  because  you  saved  my  daughter's 
life." 

Weston  was  on  his  feet,  his  eyes  blazing  with  anger, 
and  his  voice  trembling  with  suppressed  passion. 

"  I  won't  reply  to  such  contemptible  words,"  he  said. 


284  THE  STAKE 

"  I  know  as  well  as  you  do  that  the  land  is  worth  more 
than  the  price  named  by  Rankin.  I  know  all  about  the 
copper  recently  discovered  there.  I  know  how  neces- 
sary it  is  to  you.  You  told  Rankin  you  would  pay  what 
the  land  was  worth,  didn't  you  ?  Well  —  I'll  give  you 
the  opportunity  to  keep  your  word.  Fill  out  a  con- 
tract for  this  land.  Make  the  consideration  what  you 
honestly  believe  the  land  to  be  worth,  and  I'll  sign  the 
paper  upon  your  own  terms." 

There  was  a  noise  in  the  next  room,  as  of  the  closing 
of  a  door,  and  footsteps  hurried  through  the  hall. 

Senator  Ellsworth  wiped  his  forehead,  stared  hard 
at  Weston,  and  looked  doubtfully  towards  Travis. 

"Well,"  he  said  to  the  latter,  "why  don't  you  fill 
it  out?  Let's  settle  this." 

"What  amount?"  asked  Travis,  dipping  his  pen  in 
the  ink. 

The  senator  hesitated,  squirmed  in  his  seat,  clenched 
his  fists,  and  seemed  to  find  difficulty  in  breathing. 
Twice  he  opened  his  mouth  to  speak,  and  each  time  his 
voice  failed  him.  He  turned  again  to  Travis,  as  if 
hoping  for  some  suggestion  from  the  young  lawyer,  but 
the  latter,  with  his  eyes  cast  upon  the  paper  before  him, 
remained  silent.  At  last  he  exclaimed  hoarsely: 

"  Pay  him  his  price.     Make  it  half  a  million  dollars." 

Travis  gave  a  quick  glance  at  Weston,  and  then  pro- 
ceeded to  complete  the  papers.  There  was  no  other 
sound  in  the  room,  save  the  scratching  of  the  pen. 
Weston  remained  standing,  watching  intently  the  face 
of  the  senator,  who  sat  with  his  head  bowed,  and  his 
fingers  nervously  clutching  the  sides  of  his  chair. 


THE  STAKE  285 

"  Here  it  is,"  said  the  lawyer,  after  a  few  minutes. 
"  Read  it  over,  Weston." 

"  It  isn't  necessary,"  replied  the  latter,  removing  his 
eyes  for  the  first  time  from  the  bent  figure  of  the  man 
before  him.  "  Give  me  the  pen.  I'll  sign  it." 

As  he  uttered  these  words,  the  door  opened  suddenly, 
and  Louise  burst  into  the  room,  followed  by  Rankin. 

"  No,  no ! "  she  cried,  rushing  to  Weston's  side. 
"  Please  do  not  sign  it.  Father,  you  mustn't  do  this. 
Surely,  you  wouldn't  take  advantage  of  him.  I  heard 
you  say  the  land  was  worth  half  a  million  dollars." 

"Did  he  say  that?"  cried  Weston,  turning  to  her, 
with  a  look  of  admiration.  "  Then  he  has  taken  no 
advantage  of  me,  for  that's  just  what  he  has  offered  to 
pay  me  for  the  property," 


CHAPTER  XIX 

IN  the  morning,  Weston  was  up  early.  Without 
waiting  for  breakfast,  he  hurried  over  to  Squire 
Guilford's,  to  tell  his  old  friend  the  result  of  his  inter- 
view with  Senator  Ellsworth  the  night  before. 

He  found  them  sitting  at  the  table,  and  promptly  ac- 
cepted Mrs.  Guilford's  invitation  to  breakfast. 

"  Great  news,  Squire ! "  he  cried,  helping  himself  to 
a  slice  of  hot  toast.  "  We've  sold  the  land." 

"Who  to?" 

"  Senator  Ellsworth  and  his  crowd." 

The  squire  dropped  his  knife  and  fork. 

"  Ye  don't  say  so.     Thet's  too  bad,"  he  said. 

"  Too  bad  ?    You  don't  know  what  we  got  for  it." 

"Did  Rankin  sell  it?" 

"  No.     I  did.     Don't  you  want  to  know  the  price  ?  " 

The  squire  stared  at  him  blankly  for  a  moment,  and 
then  inquired: 

"Waal,  what'dyegit?" 

"Half  a  million  dollars!" 

Mrs.  Guilford  gave  a  little  shriek. 

"  Half  a  million  dollars  ?  Sakes  alive !  Who'd  ha' 
thought  the  old  land  was  wuth  that  much  ?  " 

"  Half  a  million  dollars?  "  echoed  the  squire,  nodding 
his  head.  "  No  wonder  Rankin  got  left." 

"  I  don't  understand  you,"  said  Weston,  looking  curi- 


THE  STAKE  287 

ously  at  the  old  man.     "  Left?    What  do  you  mean?" 

"  Why,  ye  see,"  replied  the  squire,  hesitatingly.  "  He 
wanted  to  lease  it  himself.  He  an'  some  other  fellers 
ha'  got  a  mine  'longside  o'  this  land,  an'  they  kind  o' 
needed  it  t'  piece  out.  Leastwise,  thet's  th'  way  I  under- 
stood it." 

Weston  pushed  his  chair  back  from  the  table,  and 
there  was  a  strange  look  in  his  face. 

"  Why  wasn't  I  told  this?  "  he  asked. 

"Why,  Rankin  said  not  t'  tell  ye.  When  he  fust 
come  out  here  t'  lease  th'  land,  he  saw  you  was  kind  o' 
green  —  that  is  t'  say  ye  didn't  know  much  abaout 
tradin',  so  he  come  t'  me,  an'  he  sez  t'  me,  sez  he: 
'  This  'ere  land's  wuth  a  hull  lot  o'  money.  Th'  copper 
trust  is  arter  it,  an'  we  want  it,  but  th'  trust  has  got 
more  money'n  we  hev,  so  they  ain't  no  use  of  our 
buckin'  ag'in  'em.  But  one  thing's  sure.  They've  got 
t'  pay  th'  boy  whut  it's  wuth.' " 

"  Why  didn't  he  tell  me?  "  cried  Weston,  rising  from 
the  table.  "  He  could  have  had  the  land  at  his  own 
price.  He  and  Uncle  Dick  discovered  it  together,  and 
he  has  the  first  right —  What  a  fool  I  was.  He  told 
me  about  the  Lucky  Jack  mine,  and  how  the  trust  was 
trying  to  force  them  out,  but  it  never  occurred  to  me 
that  he  wanted  my  land.  Green?  I  should  say  I  am 
green.  Why,  I  would  rather  sell  it  to  Rankin  for  a 
thousand  dollars  than  have  the  trust  get  it.  To  think 
that  I  should  walk  into  such  a  trap." 

"  Waal,  it's  a  purty  good  trap  t'  walk  into.  Half  a 
million  dollars!  Whew!  It's  enough  t'  buy  out  th' 
hull  taown.  Where  ye  goin'  ?  " 


288  THE  STAKE 

"  Home.  And  find  Rankin,  as  quick  as  I  can,"  re- 
plied Weston,  taking  his  hat  and  starting  for  the  door. 

"  Ye  ain't  eat  yer  breakfast,"  cried  Mrs.  Guilford. 
"  An'  I've  got  some  griddle-cakes,  too." 

"  Hoi'  on !  Don't  be  in  sech  a  hurry,"  shouted  the 
squire.  "  Guess  it'll  keep  long  enough  so  that  you  c'n 
eat  yer  vittles." 

But  Weston  was  already  out  of  the  door,  and  hurry- 
ing down  the  path  to  the  street.  The  thought  that  he, 
of  all  others*  should  have  played  into  the  hands  of  the 
very  men  he  had  condemned,  exasperated  him  beyond 
measure.  When  he  had  given  Rankin  the  absolute  con- 
trol of  the  sale,  it  was  with  the  grim  thought  that  the 
shrewd  old  trader  would  be  a  match  for  the  smooth  rep- 
resentatives of  the  syndicate.  When  Travis's  failure 
brought  Senator  Ellsworth  on  the  scene,  he  had  only 
the  feeling  of  an  amused  spectator.  The  financial  gain 
to  himself,  or  the  effect  upon  others,  entered  but  mildly 
into  his  speculations.  Of  the  real  value  of  the  land, 
he  had  been  ignorant.  His  one  wish  was  that  Rankin's 
shrewdness  might  outwit  them  in  the  trade. 

As  he  approached  the  house,  he  discovered  a  figure 
sitting  on  the  edge  of  the  sidewalk,  near  the  gate,  and, 
to  his  surprise,  found  it  was  Rankin  himself. 

"  Mornin' ! "  said  the  latter,  looking  up  from  the  stick 
he  was  whittling.  "  Ye're  out  early." 

"  Yes.    You're  just  the  man  I  want  to  see." 

"  Say !  "  continued  Rankin,  not  heeding  the  last  re- 
mark. "  Want  to  do  me  a  favor  ?  D'ye  s'pose  ye  c'd 
snake  my  grip  out  o'  th'  back  door,  an'  bring  it  'round 
here?" 


THE  STAKE  289 

"What  for?" 

Rankin  turned  and  peered  around  a  lilac-bush,  which 
hid  the  house  from  view. 

"  She  —  she  don't  know  I'm  goin'.  Thought  I'd  bet- 
ter make  a  sneak,"  he  said  sheepishly.  "  She's  been 
fixin'  up  some  scheme  on  me,  an'  I  concluded  t'  light 
out." 

"Who?" 

"  Mis'  Briggs.  Not  but  she's  all  right,  an'  cooks  fine, 
but  she's  a  turble  hangin'-on  sort  of  a  woman.  I  ain't 
used  t'  sech,  an'  I  got  kind  o'  skittish  about  stayin'  any 
longer." 

Weston  smiled. 

"  I'll  stand  by  you,  old  friend.  Come  into  the  house 
and  let's  have  breakfast.  I  want  to  talk  to  you.  Why 
didn't  you  tell  me  you  wanted  that  land  in  Michigan?  " 

"Hey?  What  land?  Oh,  that  land!  Say,  has  ol' 
Guilford  been  givin'  me  away?" 

"  Indeed  he  has.  And  the  worst  of  it  is,  I've  found 
you  out  too  late.  Or  is  it  too  late  ?  " 

"  See  here,  young  feller !  Bus'ness  is  bus'ness.  The 
land  was  your'n,  an'  ye  got  what  it's  wuth." 

He  sighed  and  added: 

"  But  it's  tough  on  Wade  an'  the  other  fellers  in  the 
Lucky  Jack.  We'll  hev  to  call  it  Unlucky  Jack  fer 
sure,  now." 

"  Tell  me  about  it,"  said  Weston,  sitting  down  beside 
him.  "  Do  you  know,  I  am  so  densely  stupid,  I  never 
understood  your  fight  with  the  copper  trust,  although 
you  did  say  something  to  me  about  it  once  before." 

"  Why,  it's  jest  this  way.    I  owned  th'  land  east  of 


290  THE  STAKE 

your'n,  an'  leased  it  t'  some  fellers  who  started  minin' 
there.  They  struck  copper  along  th'  west  side,  an' 
found  th'  veins  run  over  into  your  prop'ty.  About  th' 
same  time,  th'  big  copper  company  struck  ore  jest  west 
o'  your  line.  Then  I  guess  both  parties  did  a  leetle 
prospectin',  until  they  made  up  their  minds  thet  th' 
biggest  body  of  ore  was  on  your  land.  So,  of  course, 
they  was  both  arter  it.  Don't  ye  see  ?  " 

"  Are  you  interested  now  in  the  Lucky  Jack  ?  "  said 
Weston. 

"  Yes.     I  took  some  stock  in  th'  comp'ny." 

"  Will  it  affect  your  stock,  now  that  the  syndicate 
has  bought  my  land  ?  " 

"  I  sh'd  say  it  would,"  replied  Rankin,  grimly. 

"Why?" 

"  'Cause  th'  Lucky  Jack  crowd  ain't  got  land  enough 
t'  do  bus'ness.  Ef  they  c'd  ha'  leased  your  land,  same 
as  they  did  mine  —  payin'  a  r'yalty  on  what  they  got  out 
of  it,  they  c'd  ha'  swung  it  all  right.  But,  half  a  mil- 
lion dollars  called  their  pile.  They're  too  poor  to  fight 
ag'in  th'  dollars  stacked  up  t'  beat  'em.  What  they've 
got  t'  do,  is  t'  sell  out  th'  best  they  can.  I'm  goin'  t' 
Boston  to-day,  an'  wire  Wade  it's  all  off." 

"  Isn't  there  other  copper  land  they  can  get  ?  " 

"  Yes.     Lots  of  it.     But  none  so  good  as  your'n. 

"  'Cept  th'  land  south  of  'em,"  he  added.  "  But  they 
can't  buy  that." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Takes  money.  Takes  purty  near  as  much  cash  as 
you  got  fer  your'n." 

"  Is  the  syndicate  after  that,  too?" 


THE  STAKE  291 

"  No.  They  know  we  can't  buy  it,  so  they're  waitin' 
'til  th'  feller  that  owns  it  gits  tired  o'  holdin'  it." 

"  Do  you  know  the  owner  ?  " 

"Know  him?  Sh'd  say  I  did.  Trapped  with  him 
four  winters." 

"Would  he  sell  to  you?" 

"  I  tell  ye  we  ain't  got  th'  money,  an'  he  won't  take 
anythin'  but  cash." 

"  What  does  he  want  for  it?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  I  expect  I  c'd  buy  it  fer  three 
hunnercl  thousand  dollars.  But  what's  th'  use  o'  talkin' 
about  it.  He  won't  lease,  an'  he  won't  sell  'cept  fer 
cash,  an'  cash  is  jes'  what  we  ain't  got." 

"  I'll  furnish  -the  money,"  said  Weston.  "The  syndi- 
cate will  have  to  pay  me  half  a  million  dollars  for  my 
land.  Out  of  that  money  I  can  furnish  your  company 
with  enough  additional  capital  to  buy  this  other  prop- 
erty. How  would  that  work  ?  " 

Rankin  paused  in  his  whittling,  stared  at  WTeston  a 
moment,  and  then  raising  his  fist  in  air,  brought  it  down 
with  a  thud  upon  his  knee. 

"By  Godfrey,  boy!  Ye've  got  'em  licked.  With 
their  own  money,  too." 

The  next  minute  he  threw  back  his  head  and  roared 
with  laughter.  Suddenly  he  stopped,  peered  anxiously 
around  the  lilac-bush,  and  lowered  his  voice  to  a  whis- 
per. 

"  D'ye  think  ye'd  better  do  it,  Dick  ?  I  ain't  sartin 
ef  it's  right." 

"  It  must  be  right,"  exclaimed  Dick.  "  It's  just  what 
iny  father  would  do,  and  so  would  Uncle  Dick." 


292  THE  STAKE 

"  Yes,  I  guess  he  would,"  said  Rankin,  thoughtfully. 
"  But  how  about  ol'  Ellsworth?  Ye  kind  o'  got  th'  best 
of  him  last  night.  Do  ye  think  he'll  take  another  fall 
from  ye  ?  " 

"  Why  shouldn't  I  take  a  legitimate  advantage  over 
him  ?  He  tried  to  get  the  better  of  me." 

"  But  he  paid  ye  what  it  was  wuth  at  last." 

"  He  had  to." 

"  Did  he  ?  I  kind  o'  thought  he  weakened  of  his  own 
accord.  Didn't  ye  kind  o'  crowd  him  to  be  square  ?  " 

"  Yes.  It's  true  I  put  it  up  to  him,  and  he  was  man 
enough  to  do  the  right  thing  at  the  last." 

"Then  there's  th'  gal,"  said  Rankin  softly.  "Ex- 
cuse me  fer  sayin'  so.  But  don't  ye  owe  her  sunthin', 
too?" 

Weston  was  silent. 

"  Let's  think  it  over  a  while,  fust,"  said  the  old  man 
quietly.  "  P'rhaps  we  c'n  figger  it  out  an  easier  way." 

"  Don't  you  want  to  use  the  money  the  way  I  sug- 
gested ? "  asked  Weston. 

"  Lord  bless  ye,  my  boy !  Don't  put  it  that  way.  Of 
course  I'd  like  t'  hev  th'  money  t'  help  out  my  partners, 
but  I've  got  t'  do  some  thirikin'  fer  you  fust.  They's 
sunthin'  better'n  money  in  this  world,  an'  that's  happi- 
ness. That's  what  yer  uncle  used  t'  say.  You're  like 
him  in  a  good  many  ways.  But  they's  one  mistake  he 
made.  He  never  got  married.  No  more  did  I.  Ef 
I'd  only  hed  a  wife — " 

"Waal,  here  ye  be,  be  ye?"  called  a  shrill  voice  be- 
hind them,  as  Mrs.  Briggs's  bony  hand  pushed  open  the 
gate  with  a  gesture  of  command,  rather  than  invitation. 


THE  STAKE  293 

"  Here  I've  been  waitin'  an'  lookin'  an'  callin'  fer 
half  an  hour  fer  ye.  Th'  p'tatoes  is  burned  to  a  crisp, 
an'  I've  sp'iled  six  eggs  in  b'ilin'.  What  on  airth  be  ye 
doin'  here?  Who  littered  all  them  shavin's  on  th' 
sidewalk?  Yew,  Mr.  Rankin?  I'm  surprised.  Shows 
ye  ain't  hed  the  advantage  of  female  comp'ny." 

The  two  culprits  passed  through  the  gate,  Weston, 
with  a  smile  on  his  lips,  and  Rankin,  with  an  anxious 
side-glance  at  Mrs.  Briggs,  who  stood  like  some  ac- 
cusing spirit,  ushering  them  within  the  portals  of  a  hall 
of  judgment. 

When  the  two  men  had  finished  their  breakfast,  eaten 
in.  silence  under  the  observing  eyes  and  ears  of  the 
widow,  they  were  alone  for  a  few  minutes  while  she 
was  busied  in  the  kitchen.  Seizing  the  opportunity, 
Rankin  again  informed  Weston  that  he  must  leave  for 
Boston  that  very  day.  Poising  a  toothpick  in  air,  and 
using  it  like  a  baton  to  emphasize  his  remarks,  he  said : 

"  There's  only  one  way  t'  jump  th'  ranch,  Dick,  an' 
that  is  t'  skin  out  when  she  ain't  lookin'.  You'll  hev 
to  git  my  traps  an'  work  'em  over  t'  Guilford's.  Hide 
'em  in  th'  stage,  an'  tell  th'  squire  I'll  be  some'eres 
along  th'  road  t'  th'  station.  He  c'n  pick  me  up.  I 
believe  I'll  go  right  now." 

"  What's  thet?  "  cried  the  sharp  voice  of  Mrs.  Briggs 
at  the  door.  "  Where  ye  goin'  ?  " 

Rankin,  who  had  half  risen  from  his  chair,  sank  back 
with  a  helpless  look  towards  Weston. 

"  Mr.  Rankin  is  going  back  to  Boston  to-day,"  said 
Dick,  boldly. 

For  a  moment  there  was  dead  silence,  save  for  a  dry 


294  THE  STAKE 

rattling  in  Mrs.  Briggs'  throat,  as  she  swallowed  audi- 
bly, and  the  cracking  of  her  knuckles,  as  she  clasped 
and  unclasped  her  hands. 

"  Ain't  yer  vittles  right  ?  "  she  demanded  of  Rankin. 

Before  her  accusing  looks  Rankin  could  find  no  words 
of  reply,  and  again  turned  in  mute  appeal  to  Weston. 

"  I  think  Mr.  Rankin  is  satisfied  with  the  way  he 
has  been  treated,"  said  Weston  firmly,  "  but  he  can't 
stay  any  longer.  We  have  some  business  matters  to 
talk  over  before  he  goes,  so  you'll  have  to  excuse  us." 

The  widow  glared  at  him,  and  seemed  about  to  make 
an  angry  reply.  She  thought  better  of  it,  however, 
gave  a  spiteful  shrug  of  her  shoulders,  and  left  the 
room. 

"  Now,  Rankin,"  said  Weston,  "  get  your  things  to- 
gether, and  we'll  take  them  over  to  Guilford's.  Hurry 
up.  We  mustn't  have  another  scene  with  Mrs.  Briggs, 
if  we  can  help  it.  I'm  sorry  for  her,  but  she'll  have 
to  get  along  without  us.  Unless — "  he  added,  with  a 
twinkle  in  his  eye  — "  unless  you  wish  to  console  her." 

"  No,  no ! "  exclaimed  Rankin,  hastily.  "  She's  a 
capable,  forehanded  woman,  but  she's  too  much  fer 
me." 

After  arranging  with  Rankin  to  meet  him  in  Boston 
in  a  week,  Weston  said  good-by  to  his  old  friend,  and, 
leaving  him  at  Guilford's,  turned  down  the  street  to  the 
hotel. 

Here  the  first  person  he  met  was  Dr.  Stewart,  from 
whom  he  received  a  hearty  welcome. 

"  Hello,  Weston !  Glad  to  see  you.  Things  are  in 
a  terrible  mix-up  around  here,  and  you  seem  to  be  the 


THE  STAKE 


295 


one  to  straighten  it  all  out.  Dicky  Carson  insists  that 
you  are  under  engagement  to  take  us  all  out  to  that 
famous  island  of  yours." 

"  Trust  Dicky  for  remembering  that,"  replied  Weston, 
looking  out  over  the  harbor.  "  The  day  is  just  right 
for  sailing.  We  ought  to  start  early.  Where  are  the 
ladies?" 

"At  breakfast.  Late  as  usual.  But  then,  Miss 
Ellsworth  was  up  late  with  her  father.  The  old  gen- 
tleman and  Travis  got  into  some  altercation  last  night. 
I  imagine  the  senator  was  in  a  tantrum,  for  I  could 
hear  him  storming  about  his  room,  until  nearly  mid- 
night. This  morning  he  and  Travis  were  up  early,  and 
drove  over  to  the  station.  I  believe  they  were  to  wire 
for  special  orders  to  stop  some  train." 

"  Gone  ?  "  exclaimed  Weston  in  surprise.  "  That's 
very  strange.  I  expected  to  meet  them  here  this  morn- 
ing." 

"  By  the  way,"  said  the  doctor,  feeling  in  his  pocket, 
"  Travis  left  a  note  for  you.  Handed  it  to  me  just  as 
he  was  leaving.  Here  it  is." 

Weston  tore  open  the  envelope  and  read  the  few 
lines  which  informed  him  that  the  business  of  the  night 
before  would  be  concluded  in  Boston,  and  asking  him 
to  be  at  Senator  Ellsworth's  the  next  day,  if  possible. 
He  smiled  as  he  read  the  last  part  of  the  letter.  "  Poor 
Travis,"  he  thought.  "  It  must  have  been  hard  for  him 
to  leave  just  now.  He  can't  drag  me  away  until  I  am 
ready  to  go." 

"  Then  our  party  is  reduced  to  four,"  he  said  aloud. 

"  Five,  including  Dicky." 


296  THE  STAKE 

"  To  be  sure.  He's  the  most  important  one  of  all. 
Here  he  comes  now." 

The  boy  came  running  towards  him  with  a  joyful 
cry. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Crusoe !  We're  going  sailing  out  to  your 
desert  island,  aren't  we?  No,  I  mustn't  call  you  Mr. 
Crusoe,  'cause  he's  lost  and  we're  going  to  find  him. 
I've  invited  mamma,  and  Dr.  Stewart,  'cause  they 
wouldn't  know  what  to  do  with  themselves  if  we  went 
away  and  left  them  all  alone.  When  are  we  going  to 
start?" 

"  Just  as  soon  as  we  can  get  ready.  I'll  go  down 
and  see  Dad  about  the  boat  now.  Doctor,  will  you  ask 
the  ladies  to  arrange  about  the  lunch?  I'll  be  back  in 
a  few  minutes." 

"  Can't  I  go,  too?  "  cried  Dicky. 

"  Yes.     Come  on,"  replied  Weston. 

As  he  and  the  boy  went  off  hand  in  hand,  the  doc- 
tor remarked  to  himself: 

"  I  did  the  best  job  of  my  life  when  I  patched  up 
that  fellow's  head.  The  world  needs  that  kind  of 
bright,  sunny  characters.  One  only  needs  to  look  at 
his  straight  figure  and  fearless  eye  to  know  the  genuine 
worth  of  the  man." 

"  Good  morning ! "  said  a  voice  at  his  elbow,  and  he 
turned  to  find  Mrs.  Carson  standing  beside  him. 

"  Was  that  Mr.  Weston  ?  "  she  asked,  pointing  to  the 
two  figures  moving  towards  the  beach. 

"  Yes.  He  and  Dicky  have  gone  to  arrange  for  a 
boat.  Will  you  and  Miss  Ellsworth  find  a  lunch  for 
us?  It  seems  this  is  to  be  an  all-day  affair." 


THE  STAKE 


297 


"  You're  not  very  enthusiastic,"  she  said  archly. 
"  Perhaps  you  would  rather  stay  at  home." 

"  With  pleasure,  if  you'll  stay,  "too." 

She  laughed  softly  and  went  into  the  house. 

When  Weston  returned  a  half-hour  later,  he  found 
them  waiting  for  him. 

"All  ready?"  he  inquired. 

"  All  ready,"  answered  the  doctor.  "  Plenty  of  good 
things  to  eat,  and  two  ladies  to  rescue  from  danger. 
Are  we  likely  to  have  a  storm  and  shipwreck  to-day, 
or  have  you  and  Miss  Ellsworth  a  monopoly  of  such 
adventures  ?  " 

Weston  glanced  at  Louise  as  he  said  soberly : 

"  I  hope  no  such  danger  may  happen  to  you,  as  Miss 
Ellsworth  experienced.  Come,  let's  be  going." 

They  went  down  the  steps,  and  on  towards  the  beach, 
Louise  holding  Dicky  by  the  hand  and  walking  beside 
Mrs.  Carson,  while  the  two  men  strode  on  ahead.  At 
the  dock,  old  Dad  was  waiting  to  receive  them,  his 
toilet  made  richer  by  a  glaring  red  necktie. 

"  Mornin',  Miss ! "  he  said,  touching  his  hat  to  Mrs. 
Carson. 

"  Good  morning,  Captain !  What  kind  of  weather 
will  we  have?" 

"  FavT)le,  Miss!  Fav'ble!  A  fair  wind  an'  a  fair 
weather ! " 

"  No  danger  of  storm?  " 

"  Not's  I  cal'late.  In  course  th'  ways  o'  th'  Lord  is 
onsartin,  but  'cordin'  t'  signs,  He  ain't  botherin'  with 
th'  weather  t'day.  Prob'ly  got  sunthin'  else  t'  do,  look- 
in'  arter  mis'ble  sinners,  an'  sech." 


298  THE  STAKE 

"  I  suppose,  Captain,"  remarked  the  doctor,  as  Wes- 
ton  assisted  the  ladies  into  the  boat ;  "  I  suppose  you 
know  all  about  the  sea." 

"  Done  ev'rything  but  drink  it." 

"Don't  you  ever  get  tired  of  it?" 

"  Git  tired  ?  Yes,  sometimes.  Ye  see,  me  an'  th' 
sea's  been  friends  an'  enemies  off  an'  on  fer  'bout  fifty 
year.  For  awhile  she's  all  cooin'  an'  soft  like  a  baby, 
an'  then  I  like  t'  play  with  her.  But  when  she  gits  on 
a  tantrum,  an'  goes  t'  slappin'  an'  grabbin',  then  I  want 
t'  fight.  I've  licked  her  so  fur,  but  she'll  git  me  some 
time,  yew  see  ef  she  don't." 

"  Come,  jump  in,  Stewart,"  shouted  Weston.  "  Get 
ready  to  cast  off,  Dad.  All  clear  there  ?  " 

"Hi!    Yi!"  yelled  Dicky.    "  Here  we  go." 


CHAPTER  XX 

IT  was  a  perfect  day.  Fleecy  clouds  floated  lazily 
across  the  clear  sky.  A  light  breeze  set  the  sur- 
face of  the  sea  dancing  and  sparkling  in  the  bright 
sunlight.  The  lapping  of  the  waves  along  the  sides  of 
the  boat,  charmed  and  smoothed  the  senses.  For  a 
time  no  one  cared  to  speak.  Even  Dicky  was  silent, 
absorbed  in  dreamy  contemplation  of  the  vista  of  wa- 
ters, while  Dad  sat  in  the  bow,  gazing  abstractedly 
ahead,  or  watching  with  the  eye  of  a  connoisseur  the 
cut  of  the  prow,  as  it  cleaved  its  way  through  the 
waves. 

To  Weston  at  the  helm  the  exhilaration  of  sailing 
was  as  nothing  compared  with  the  joy  in  his  heart,  as 
he  thought  of  the  girl  at  his  side.  Her  face  was  turned 
from  him,  as  she  pensively  leaned  over  the  rail,  and 
dipped  her  fingers  in  the  water.  As  he  watched  her 
profile,  he  seemed  to  see  in  it  a  look  of  sadness.  There 
was  a  sober  droop  of  the  mouth,  and  an  appearance  of 
listlessness,  which  he  could  not  understand.  He  won- 
dered if  she  were  thinking  of  that  other  time,  when 
they  two  were  in  the  boat  together,  battling  for  life  in 
the  extremity  of  their  danger.  If  he  had  loved  her 
then,  how  much  more  did  he  love  her  now. 

The  silence  was  suddenly  broken  by  Dad,  who  called 
back  to  Weston : 


300  THE  STAKE 

"  Better  keep  her  over  t'  sta'board,  ef  ye  want  t' 
make  th'  Narrers." 

Weston  started  from  his  reverie. 

"  I  must  have  been  dreaming,"  he  said,  as  he  shifted 
the  helm.  "  Come,  good  people !  Do  something  to 
keep  me  awake." 

"  We're  all  at  sea,"  remarked  the  doctor. 

"  That  sounds  like  the  *  Wise  Men  of  Gotham/  "  said 
Weston.  "  What  do  you  think  about  it,  Dicky  ?  " 

"  I  was  wonderin',"  replied  Dicky,  "  if  a  whale  could 
swallow  two  persons  at  once." 

"  Sure  thing ! "  replied  Weston.  "  Why  do  you 
ask?" 

"  I  was  thinkin'  that  Jonah  must  have  been  pretty 
lonesome  inside  of  a  whale,  without  anybody  to  talk 
to." 

"  No  doubt  of  it.     I  always  feel  that  way  myself." 

Dicky  looked  at  him  quizzically. 

"  You  wasn't  ever  in  a  whale,"  he  drawled  scorn- 
fully. 

"  No,  but  I've  been  pretty  lonesome  without  anybody 
to  talk  to." 

As  he  said  this,  Weston  looked  at  Louise  appeal- 
ingly. 

"  How  have  I  offended  you  ? "  he  asked  in  a  low 
voice.  "  You  have  hardly  spoken  to  me  this  morning." 

She  flushed  deeply  and  glanced  at  the  doctor  and 
Mrs.  Carson,  who  were  conversing  together  in  low 
tones,  while  Dicky  was  making  his  way  cautiously  for- 
ward to  join  the  skipper. 

"  I  might  say  the  same,"  she  remarked  lamely, 


THE  STAKE 


301 


"  Then  there's  nothing  to  be  explained  —  nothing  I 
have  said  or  done  to  hurt  your  feelings  ?  " 

"  No !  No ! "  she  replied  in  a  low  voice.  "  You 
mustn't  think  that.  I  —  I  can't  explain  now.  Did  — 
did  you  see  my  father  this  morning?  " 

"  No.  He  left  before  I  reached  the  hotel,"  replied 
Weston,  puzzled  at  her  strange  reserve.  Then  as  a 
new  thought  struck  him,  he  added: 

"  You  mean  about  the  business  of  last  night?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  murmured ;  then  raised  her  eyes  to  his. 
"Oh,  Mr.  Weston!  Please  don't  blame  my  father. 
He  intends  to  do  what  is  right,  but  he  becomes  so  in- 
tensely interested  in  his  business  plans,  that  he  some- 
times forgets  to  be  just  to  others.  I  never  thought  of 
it  in  that  way  until  last  night.  When  I  overheard  his 
conversation  with  Mr.  Travis,  and  realized  that  he  was 
trying  to  —  to  —  take  advantage  of  you,  I  was  so 
shocked,  so  unhappy,  I  hardly  knew  what  I  did." 

There  were  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"  You  mustn't  look  at  it  that  way,"  he  said  lamely. 
"  It  was  only  a  matter  of  business.  I  had  something 
to  sell ;  he  was  willing  to  buy." 

"  Yes,  but  he  tried  to  buy  it  for  less  than  it  was 
worth." 

"  That's  the  basis  of  all  business  transactions.  Other- 
wise the  buyer  would  make  no  profit." 

"  You  are  trying  to  make  it  look  right,  just  to  relieve 
my  mind,"  she  said,  smiling  sadly.  "  I  know  he  tried 
to  take  advantage  of  you." 

"  But  he  didn't  succeed,"  replied  Weston.  "  Perhaps 
I  have  taken  an  advantage  of  him.  Who  knows  ?  " 


302  THE  STAKE 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  "  she  asked,  her  face  brightening. 
"  I  would  rather  have  it  that  way." 

"  Would  you  really  like  to  have  me  get  the  better  of 
your  father  ?  "  said  he. 

"  If  you  could,"  she  replied  naively ;  "  I  imagine, 
though,  it  wouldn't  be  easy  for  you." 

"  Your  father  has  the  reputation  of  being  a  very 
shrewd  man.  I'm  afraid  I  would  be  no  match  for  him. 
Then,  too,  I'm  not  anxious  to  become  rich." 

"And  you  think  my  father  is?"  inquired  the  girl, 
thoughtfully.  "You  are  mistaken.  Papa  is  not  mi- 
serly. He  has  no  desire  to  hoard  money.  He  is  gen- 
erous, and  gives  freely,  not  only  to  charities,  but  to  all 
worthy  causes." 

"I  don't  doubt  it,"  said  Weston.  "But,— pardon 
me  —  wouldn't  it  be  better  if  he  were  more  generous 
in  his  business  transactions  ?  " 

"  He  intends  to  be  generous,  I'm  sure,"  she  replied, 
hesitatingly.  "  Business  with  him  is  a  game  into  which 
he  puts  his  best  efforts,  and  he  plays  to  win;  just  as 
you  do  at  football  or  tennis  or  any  other  contest  of 
skill." 

"  But,  isn't  the  motive  rather  mercenary  ?  "  suggested 
Weston. 

"  Not  in  his  case,"  she  argued.  "  He  makes  his  plans 
and  carries  them  out  skillfully, —  can  you  blame  him? 
Is  it  to  his  discredit  that  he  succeeds  ?  " 

She  was  pleading  with  her  lover  for  her  father's  good 
name,  and  her  face  showed  the  intensity  of  her  feel- 
ings. Filled  with  admiration  for  her  defense  of  the 
man  whom  he  had  considered  heartless  and  unprinci- 


THE  STAKE  303 

pled,  Weston  felt  his  prejudices  slipping  away  from 
him. 

"  How  about  the  man  who  loses  in  this  game  ?  "  he 
asked.  "  Think  of  his  disappointment.  It's  a  game 
in  which  the  loser  often  becomes  a  sufferer,  while  the 
winner  gains  only  a  useless  victory.  It's  a  fine  thing 
to  relieve  human  suffering  and  want,  but  isn't  it  better 
to  prevent  it  —  to  forestall  heartache  and  misery  among 
our  fellow-men?  Give  me  the  helping  hand  before  the 
hand  of  charity." 

"  That  is  the  sad  part  of  it  which  I  can't  explain," 
she  replied,  shaking  her  head.  "  My  philosophy  will 
not  carry  me  that  far.  I  have  a  feeling,  though,  that 
the  spirit  which  moves  men  to  drive  sharp  bargains,  or 
to  get  the  better  of  some  one  else,  is  the  same  spirit 
which  makes  some  men  leaders  among  their  fellows. 
I  don't  know  much  about  such  things,  but  it  seems  to 
me  that  there  are  struggles  in  every  phase  of  life,  and 
that  the  strong  minds  must  inevitably  overpower  the 
weaker." 

"  Almost  thou  persuadest  me  to  be  a  magnate,"  said 
Weston,  laughing.  "  I  wonder  how  it  would  seem  to 
manipulate  the  stock-market,  corner  some  poor  devil, 
and  euchre  him  out  of  his  fortune ;  or  form  a  combina- 
tion of  brother  magnates, —  a  syndicate,  as  they  call  it, 
—  for  the  purpose  of  crushing  out  competition." 

She  looked  at  him  soberly  and  said  quietly : 

"  I  want  you  to  do  nothing  which  your  own  con- 
science condemns,  but  I  would  like  to  have  you  think 
of  my  father  and  his  business  methods  without  preju- 
dice." 


304  THE  STAKE 

Then  blushing  deeply  at  her  temerity,  she  added 
bravely : 

"  I  know  you  are  laughing  at  me  secretly.  It's  ridic- 
ulous for  me  to  presume  to  advise  you.  Perhaps  I've 
been  foolishly  worried  over  last  night's  affair,  when  I 
thought  my  father  was  trying  to  take  advantage  of  you. 
At  first  I  could  see  no  excuse  for  it,  but  I  finally  be- 
came convinced  that  he  had  no  realization  of  the  wrong 
he  was  doing  you.  In  the  game  he  was  playing,  you 
were  simply  an  obstruction  to  be  removed.  The  thought 
that  you  would  suffer  by  his  actions,  was  not  impressed 
upon  his  mind  until  your  appeal  to  his  honor.  I  think 
that  he  came  to  a  sudden  realization  of  it  then." 

"  Yes,  and  responded  nobly,"  exclaimed  Weston, 
touched  by  her  manner,  and  almost  convinced  of  the 
truth  of  her  argument.  She  gave  him  a  look  of  grati- 
tude, and  a  smile  which  ended  any  further  doubts  as 
far  as  he  was  concerned.  He  was  prepared  to  waive 
all  former  scruples  and  declare  her  father  and  his  as- 
sociates philanthropists  in  disguise,  if  only  she  would 
continue  to  be  gracious  to  him.  He  was  tempted  to 
take  her  hand,  and  press  it  in  sympathy.  The  doctor 
and  Mrs.  Carson  were  talking  to  each  other  in  low 
tones ;  Dicky  and  his  ancient  mariner  were  gazing  ahead. 
The  time  seemed  propitious.  He  looked  at  her  with 
his  very  soul  in  his  eyes.  Her  lips  were  parted;  her 
face  turned  towards  him  was  beautiful  in  its  expression. 
He  leaned  forward,  and  — 

"  Hi,  there !  "  shouted  Dad.  "  What  ye  doin* !  Keep 
her  nose  in  yer  eye,  an'  sight  fer  th'  island." 

The  two  couples  were  startled  out  of  their  abstrac- 


THE  STAKE  305 

tion.  Weston  brought  the  boat  over  to  her  course, 
and  Stewart  exclaimed : 

"  How  much  farther  is  it  ?  " 

"  We  are  nearly  half-way  there,"  replied  Weston. 
"  Are  you  getting  tired  or  hungry  ?  " 

"  Neither.   Just  resigned  to  what  fate  may  bring  me." 

"  There's  a  lunch-basket  within  reach,"  said  Mrs. 
Carson.  "If  anybody  is  hungry,  they  can  help  them- 
selves." 

To  this  invitation  Dicky  immediately  responded. 

"  Captain  Dad  is  goin'  to  take  me  fishin',"  he  said, 
"  and  we  want  to  eat  now,  so  we  won't  have  to  waste 
any  time  eatin'  when  we  get  to  the  island." 

"  But  it's  only  a  little  after  ten  o'clock,"  replied  his 
mother. 

"  I  don't  care !  I  and  Captain  Dad  have  got  lots  to 
'tend  to,  and  we  can't  be  'noyed  when  we're  fishin'." 

The  boy  was  supplied  with  sandwiches,  and  returned 
to  his  new  friend  in  the  bow. 

It  was  after  eleven  o'clock  when  they  reached  the 
island,  and  brought  the  boat  within  the  little  bay  where 
the  dock  of  logs  still  served  as  a  landing-place.  Leav- 
ing the  skipper  to  follow  with  the  baskets,  the  party 
climbed  the  rough  path  which  led  to  the  top  of  the  rock, 
the  ladies  very  gladly  accepting  the  assistance  of  the 
gentlemen,  while  Dicky  scrambled  ahead,  shouting 
shrilly  to  the  sea  birds  which  rose  in  clouds  from  the 
cliffs. 

"  Welcome  to  my  kingdom !  "  cried  Weston,  when 
they  had  reached  the  top,  and  stood  breathlessly  looking 
out  over  the  limitless  expanse  of  water. 


306  THE  STAKE 

"  Grand ! "  exclaimed  Stewart,  wiping  his  brow. 

"  Perfectly  lovely !  "  gasped  Mrs.  Carson. 

"  Where  are  the  cocoanut  trees  and  the  monkeys  ?  " 
inquired  Dicky,  looking  dubiously  at  the  waste  of  rock. 

"  You'll  find  those  in  the  Zoo,"  replied  Weston ;  then 
turning  to  Louise,  he  asked : 

"  Does  it  look  familiar  ?  " 

"  In  a  sense  —  yes.  But  I  am  seeing  it  with  differ- 
ent eyes  now,"  she  said. 

"  Show  us  where  you  were  cast  ashore,  Louise,"  said 
Mrs.  Carson. 

"  We'll  go  to  the  house  first,"  said  Weston.  "  Come, 
you  must  climb  higher." 

They  followed  slowly  up  the  path  towards  the  cabin, 
Weston  assisting  Mrs.  Carson,  and  the  doctor  with 
Louise  clinging  to  his  arm. 

"  Is  that  your  castle  in  the  air  ? "  called  Stewart, 
pointing  ahead. 

"  It  was  truly  so,  the  last  time  we  were  here,  wasn't 
it,  Miss  Ellsworth  ? "  replied  Weston,  turning  towards 
her.  "  It  seemed  then  as  if  the  air  of  the  whole  uni- 
verse were  traveling  past  us,  and  would  carry  us  along 
with  it." 

"  It  was  awful !  "  replied  Louise.  "  I  hate  to  think  of 
it.  But  that  was  only  part  of  our  terrible  experience." 

"  Do  you  remember  that  first  morning?  "  said  Weston 
as  they  continued  on  up  the  hill. 

"  I  remember  every  moment,"  she  replied  almost  in 
a  whisper. 

When  they  came  to  the  cabin,  they  found  the  door 
closed  just  as  they  had  left  it.  Weston  paused  a  mo- 


THE  STAKE 


307 


merit  with  his  hand  on  the  hasp ;  then  bowing  to  Louise 
he  threw  open  the  door,  and  stepped  to  one  side. 

"  You  first,  Miss  Ellsworth,"  he  said. 

She  looked  at  him  in  surprise,  while  a  faint  flush 
rose  to  her  cheeks.  Then  with  a  nervous  laugh,  she 
said: 

"  Must  I  drive  away  the  ghosts  ?  " 

"  You  must  bring  back  the  sunlight,  which  you  took 
away  with  you,"  he  replied  in  a  voice  which  reached 
her  ears  only. 

Everything  was  unchanged;  the  neatly-made  bed, 
just  as  she  had  arranged  it  when  leaving;  the  table  cov- 
ered with  its  red  spread;  the  lamp  and  dishes  in  their 
places ;  the  old  spyglass  on  the  wall ;  the  books. 

By  the  stove  was  an  empty  hook,  where  had  hung  the 
oil-skin  coat. 

"  Gone ! "  said  Weston,  as  he  saw  her  look  at  the 
vacant  place.  "  The  last  time  I  remember  seeing  it, 
you  were  being  carried  in  it,  down  to  the  cabin  of  the 
Mary  Boyle.  I  suppose  Captain  Appleby  has  fallen 
heir  to  it,  or  perhaps  Bill  Jenkins  took  it  in  exchange 
for  his  historic  cap." 

"  And  you  mean  to  say  that  you  two  lived  in  this  lit- 
tle tucked-up  place  for  two  whole  days?"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Carson,  looking  about  the  room,  with  an  expres- 
sion of  wonderment.  "  It  smothers  me  to  think  of  it. 
Let's  get  out  of  doors.  It  smells  stuffy  in  here." 

"There  comes  Dad,"  exclaimed  Weston.  "We'll 
have  him  build  a  fire  and  start  the  coffee.  Meanwhile 
let's  sit  outside  and  enjoy  the  view." 

"  I  am  going  to  set  the  table  and  arrange  the  lunch," 


308  THE  STAKE 

said  Louise,  as  the  old  skipper  came  puffing  in  at  the 
door,  carrying  the  baskets  and  a  jug  of  water. 

"  Very  well,  I'll  stay  and  help,"  said  Mrs.  Carson,  re- 
signedly. 

"  No !  Please  go  outside  with  the  others,"  insisted 
Louise.  "  I  want  to  do  it  alone.  Please  go." 

Mrs.  Carson  looked  at  her  in  surprise. 

"  Of  course  if  you  are  anxious  to  be  alone  in  this 
musty  hut,  I'll  not  interfere.  I  really  believe  you  are 
becoming  sentimental." 

The  men  had  already  retired  to  the  bench  outside  the 
door,  when  Mrs.  Carson  joined  them. 

"  Mr.  Weston,"  she  said,  "  Louise  seems  to  think  your 
cabin  is  a  sort  of  '  Holy  of  Holies.'  She  has  dismissed 
me,  and  here  comes  the  captain  with  his  walking  papers. 
Perhaps  she  would  recognize  your  rights  as  proprietor. 
At  present  she  is  cook,  housemaid  and  all." 

"  Won't  she  let  anybody  help  her  ?  "  asked  Weston, 
rising  quickly,  and  looking  hesitatingly  at  the  half-open 
door. 

"  You  might  try.     She  refused  my  aid." 

"  I'll  find  out,"  said  Weston,  as  he  entered  the  house. 

"  There ! "  whispered  Mrs.  Carson  to  the  doctor. 
"  Let's  go  away  and  leave  them.  Dicky,  you  run  along 
with  the  captain." 

"  Is  this  a  conspiracy?  "  asked  the  doctor,  as  he  and 
the  widow  strolled  over  to  the  edge  of  the  cliff,  and 
stood  looking  out  upon  the  unbroken  stretch  of  water. 

"  Yes !  "  replied  she.  "  I  have  done  my  best  to  bring 
together  two  persons  who  really  love  each  other,  I  am 
sure." 


THE  STAKE  309 

"Which  two?" 

She  glanced  at  him  slyly,  and  answered  quickly,  as 
she  turned  away: 

"  Why  —  Louise  and  Mr.  Weston,  of  course." 

Then  hastening  her  steps,  she  said: 

"  Let's  leave  them  alone  for  half  an  hour.  If  he 
doesn't  propose  in  that  time,  I'll  give  him  up." 

Meanwhile,  within  the  cabin,  fate  was  welding  the 
last  links  in  the  chain. 

"  May  I  help  you  ?  "  asked  Weston,  as  he  stood  within 
the  door,  and  watched  the  girl  busied  in  arranging  the 
table. 

She  stopped  her  singing,  and  looked  up  at  him  saucily. 

"  If  you  are  really  anxious  to  do  something,  you 
might  poke  the  fire  and  persuade  the  coffee  to  boil." 

"  As  I  did  for  you  once  before,"  he  remarked,  going 
to  the  stove,  where  a  fire  was  already  started. 

"  Yes,  and  you  were  quite  successful.  My  throat 
still  remembers  the  scalding  it  received,  when  you 
poured  the  hot  coffee  into  my  mouth." 

"  It  was  the  only  thing  I  could  think  of,"  he  said 
penitently.  "  You  looked  so  cold  and  exhausted,  I  was 
afraid  I  couldn't  revive  you." 

"  Few  thanks  you  received  for  your  efforts.  I  wasn't 
very  gracious,  I'm  afraid." 

"  It  was  no  time  for  exchange  of  courtesies.  You 
were  such  a  helpless,  desolate,  bewildered  creature,  my 
only  thought  was  of  your  misery  and  how  I  might  re- 
lieve it." 

"  I  know  it,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice,  pausing  in  her 
occupation  and  looking  dreamily  out  of  the  window. 


3io  THE  STAKE 

"  I  have  thought  many,  many  times  of  your  unselfish- 
ness, and  how  little  I  did  to  show  my  appreciation  and 
gratitude." 

"  It  wasn't  all  unselfishness  on  my  part,"  said  Wes- 
ton,  coming  to  her  side.  "If  I  restrained  my  feel- 
ings, it  was  because  you  were  alone,  and  I  your  only 
protector.  I  knew  it  would  be  a  base  thing  to  take 
advantage  of  your  helplessness,  but  I  was  tempted.  I 
—  I  loved  you,  and  I  wanted  to  tell  you  so." 

"  But  you  conquered  yourself  —  you  overcame  your 
infatuation  ?  "  she  asked  softly. 

He  stood  for  a  moment,  breathless  —  hardly  daring 
to  speak. 

"  You  know  that  I  love  you  now,  Louise,  more  than 
ever  —  more  than  I  can  tell  you.  I  conquered  the  im- 
pulse to  win  you  unfairly,  but  it  only  served  to 
strengthen  my  love,  until  my  life  has  become  nothing 
without  you." 

For  a  moment  she  studied  his  face  earnestly,  while  a 
look  of  unutterable  happiness  seemed  to  shine  in  her 
eyes.  His  hand  was  stretched  out  to  her  and  she  took 
it  in  both  of  hers,  as  she  whispered : 

"  I  am  glad  —  glad  that  the  man  I  love  is  —  is  just 
you." 

There  were  footsteps  outside,  and  they  started  apart, 
just  as  Dicky  burst  into  the  room. 

"  Hi,  Aunt  Louise ! "  he  shouted.  "  Come  on  out 
doors.  There's  a  big  ship  sailing  by." 

"  I  can't  just  now,  dear,"  she  said,  seizing  the 
youngster,  and  kissing  him.  Then  as  Dicky  deliberately 
wiped  his  cheek  on  his  sleeve  and  rolled  his  eyes  slowly 


THE  STAKE  311 

from  one  of  his  friends  to  the  other,  she  added  with  a 
laugh : 

"  You  see,  we're  busy  —  getting  lunch  ready." 

"  I  guess  I'd  better  go  and  find  mamma,"  said  the 
boy,  backing  out  of  the  door. 

It  was  not  long  before  he  returned  with  his  mother 
and  Dr.  Stewart,  who,  observing  an  unusual  flush  on 
Louise's  cheek,  and  Weston's  exultant  manner,  became 
convinced  of  the  success  of  their  experiment,  but  wisely 
made  no  comment  upon  it. 

"  How  about  lunch  ?  "  inquired  the  doctor. 

"  We  were  just  waiting  for  the  coffee  to  boil,"  said 
Louise,  bending  over  the  table  to  smooth  a  very  annoy- 
ing wrinkle  in  the  cloth. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  serving  it  now,  before  it 
runs  all  over  the  stove?"  laughed  Stewart,  pointing  to 
the  neglected  coffee-pot,  out  of  which  the  amber  liquid 
was  bubbling  and  spurting  over  the  sides. 

"  Aunt  Louise  has  been  crying,"  announced  Dicky  as 
though  making  a  discovery. 

"  Dicky  Carson,  what  a  fib !  "  exclaimed  Louise,  turn- 
ing her  back  upon  the  company,  and  giving  her  atten- 
tion to  the  coffee. 

"  You  have,  too.  You  spilled  tears  all  over  my  face 
when  you  kissed  me,"  declared  the  boy  positively. 

Mrs.  Carson  smiled  and  glanced  slyly  at  Weston,  who 
suddenly  became  very  busy  arranging  seats  at  the  table. 

"  Somebody  will  have  to  sit  on  the  chest,"  he  said. 
"  We're  rather  short  of  chairs." 

"  Never  mind  that,"  exclaimed  Stewart,  "  so  long  as 
you're  not  short  of  anything  else." 


312  THE  STAKE 

"  We  certainly  brought  plenty  to  eat,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Carson,  surveying  the  table. 

"And  here  is  the  coffee,"  announced  Louise,  join- 
ing the  rest  of  the  party. 

After  they  were  all  seated,  Dicky,  who  for  lack  of 
a  chair,  was  obliged  to  stand  and  enjoy  his  meal  as 
best  he  might,  remarked  between  mouthfuls : 

"  Nobody  pays  any  attention  to  me.  You're  all 
havin'  a  good  time  'cept  me.  All  I  can  do,  is  just  eat." 

"  Be  thankful  for  that,"  said  the  doctor. 

"  I'd  rather  go  fishin',"  declared  the  boy.  Then 
turning  to  Weston,  he  said: 

"  Was  you  truly  shipwrecked  here  or  was  you  only 
foolin'?" 

"  It  was  Aunt  Louise  who  was  shipwrecked,"  re- 
plied the  mother.  "  Mr.  Crusoe  was  the  one  who  res- 
cued her.  After  we  finish  lunch,  we'll  have  him  show 
us  where  it  all  happened." 

A  half-hour  later,  they  all  stood  at  the  top  of  the 
eastern  slope,  and  looked  down  upon  the  jagged  reef, 
where  the  ill-fated  yacht  had  been  wrecked.  Even  in 
the  calm  of  that  beautiful  summer  day,  they  could  hear 
the  snarl  of  the  sea  as  it  licked  the  rocks,  like  some 
savage  beast  waiting  only  for  the  lash  of  its  master,  to 
rage  and  roar  in  its  fury. 

Clinging  tightly  to  her  lover's  arm,  Louise  stood  in 
silence  looking  upon  the  spot  and  recalling  to  her  mem- 
ory the  scenes  of  that  time  of  death  and  disaster.  The 
others  wandered  on. 

"  It  was  the  sea  which  gave  you  to  me,  dear,"  said 
Weston.  "  For  that  one  blessing  I  can  forgive  it  much 


THE  STAKE  313 

of  the  evil  it  has  done.  This  little  spot  of  earth  has 
become  very  dear  to  me.  I  hate  to  leave  it." 

"But  we  will  come  here  again  —  won't  we?"  she 
asked. 

"  When  we  are  married,"  he  replied.  "  Let's  spend 
our  honeymoon  here." 

She  pressed  his  arm  tighter,  and  made  no  reply. 

"  Hurry  up,  you  dreamers ! "  cried  Stewart,  as  they 
approached  the  cabin.  "  The  skipper  has  been  calling 
us  for  the  last  half  hour.  It's  four  o'clock,  and  a  long 
way  back.  Mrs.  Carson  and  I  have  no  desire  to  repeat 
your  experience  in  this  barren  place." 

It  was  after  sunset  when  they  reached  the  hotel. 
Louise  and  Mrs.  Carson  were  to  leave  for  Boston  the 
next  day,  and,  of  course,  Stewart  was  to  go  with  them. 

Weston  remained  an  hour  or  more,  until,  one  by  one, 
the  guests  of  the  hotel  retired  indoors.  Finally  Mrs. 
Carson  rose,  bade  them  good  night,  and,  followed  by 
the  doctor,  disappeared  within,  leaving  the  lovers  alone 
to  their  whispered  confidences,  and  happy  dreams. 

At  last  Weston  found  courage  to  tear  himself  away. 

"  I  must  go  now,  dear.  I  may  not  see  you  in  the 
morning,  but  in  a  few  days  I  will  be  with  you  in  Boston. 
Good  night!" 

The  moon,  that  modest  friend  of  all  lovers,  was  good 
enough  to  cover  her  face  with  a  passing  cloud,  and  their 
parting  was  for  no  other  eyes  to  see. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE  impatience  of  lovers  has  always  been  accepted 
as  a  natural  and  incurable  condition.  Dick  Wes- 
ton  was  no  exception  in  that  interesting  class  of  young 
men.  Each  day  found  him  entangled  in  matters  con- 
cerning his  uncle's  estate,  and  his  time  was  equally 
divided  between  writing  page  after  page  to  Louise,  and 
long  and  tedious  interviews  with  Squire  Guilford, 
whose  method  of  managing  his  trust,  was  upon  the 
theory  that  legality  of  his  acts  as  executor  of  the  will, 
required  most  roundabout,  laborious  and  deliberate 
procedure  on  his  part.  To  add  to  his  annoyance,  Mrs. 
Briggs  had  assumed  the  irritating  air  of  one  who  has 
been  deeply  wronged,  but  has  submitted  with  fortitude 
to  the  unjust  and  cruel  persecution  of  fate.  She  spoke 
only  in  monosyllables,  and  then  always  with  a  deep  sigh. 
The  expression  of  her  face  was  that  of  one  who  has 
suffered  some  awful  calamity.  At  another  time  Wes- 
ton  would  have  been  amused,  but  now  it  only  added  to 
his  vexation.  Whenever  he  moved  about  the  house  she 
followed  him  at  a  distance,  gazing  after  him  in  mourn- 
ful silence,  until  he  became  almost  convinced  that  she 
was  meditating  a  transfer  of  her  affections  to  him. 

One  day  a  happy  thought  struck  him,  and  he  looked 
up  to  where  she  stood  mournfully  watching  him  at  his 
dinner. 


THE  STAKE 


315 


"  By  the  way,  Mrs.  Briggs,"  he  said.  "  You  have  a 
sister  living  somewhere,  haven't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  sighed. 

"  Wouldn't  you  like  to  make  her  a  visit?  You  need 
a  rest,  I'll  pay  the  expense.  What  do  you  say  ?  " 

"Ye  want  t'  git  red  o'  me,  don't  ye?"  replied  the 
widow  sadly.  "  I've  ben  expectin'  it.  I've  ben  lookin' 
t'  be  druv  out." 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind,"  exclaimed  Weston,  impa- 
tiently. "  I  simply  wanted  to  give  you  an  opportunity 
to  visit  your  sister." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  sniffed  the  widow.  "  Perlite  way  o' 
sayin' — *  ye  ain't  wanted.'  They  wuz  a  time  — " 

"  Oh,  come,  Mrs.  Briggs !  "  cried  Weston.  "  I  can't 
stand  that  kind  of  talk.  Stay  here  if  you  want  to. 
You  can  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  your  own  company.  I'm 
going  to  Boston  to-morrow.  Guilford  and  his  con- 
founded legal  papers  can  go  to  thunder." 

Mrs.  Briggs  threw  up  her  hands  and  gave  a  little 
squeak  of  terror. 

"  Ye  ain't  goin'  t'  throw  up  th'  hull  thing?  "  she  cried. 

"  If  I  get  excited,"  said  Weston,  solemnly  rolling  his 
eyes,  "  I  may  set  fire  to  this  house,  donate  the  farm  to 
the  cemetery  association,  and  bury  myself  alive  on 
Roger's  Island.  My  advice  to  you,  is  to  go  and  visit 
your  sister." 

Mrs.  Briggs  gulped  hard  twice,  and  with  each  gulp 
her  eyes  slowly  closed  and  opened.  Speechless  with 
amazement,  she  backed  cautiously  towards  the  door,  felt 
instinctively  for  the  handle,  and,  still  watching  Weston 
with  that  look  of  terror,  she  disappeared  from  the  room. 


316  THE  STAKE 

Weston  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  sighed.  The 
threat  he  had  made  of  going  to  Boston  the  next  day, 
re-awakened  the  ever-present  longing  to  be  with  Louise. 
He  was  tempted  to  break  away  from  his  bonds  and  go 
to  her,  in  spite  of  the  protest  which  he  knew  would 
come  from  the  old  squire.  With  this  thought  in  mind 
he  strolled  over  to  Guilford's,  where  he  found  the  old 
gentleman  putting  his  horses  in  the  stable,  after  his  daily 
trip  to  the  station. 

"  Hullo,  Dick !  "  cried  the  squire.  "  Ye're  over  early. 
Waal,  we  c'n  start  right  in  an'  go  over  that  there  bank 
account.  'Tain't  been  balanced  fer  three  years.  Must 
be  about  a  hunnerd  checks  t'  look  over.  Jes'  like 
Honest  Dick !  He  trusted  ev'rybody.  Like's  not  they's 
a  mistake.  He'd  never  know  th'  difference." 

"  Don't  you  think,  under  the  circumstances,"  sug- 
gested Dick,  "  that  we  ought  to  accept  the  statement, 
without  checking  it  over  —  just  out  of  respect  for 
uncle's  wishes  ?  " 

The  squire  paused  in  currying,  whacked  the  comb 
against  the  side  of  the  stall,  and  looked  hard  at  the 
young  man. 

"  Gosh !  All  fish-hooks ! "  he  said,  emphatically. 
"  Yew  ain't  a-goin'  t'  be  as  careless  as  he  was,  be  ye  ?  " 

"  But  couldn't  it  be  postponed  until  another  time  ?  " 
asked  Dick. 

"  Pos'poned?  Oh,  I  s'pose  we  c'd  let  it  wait  a  few 
days.  They's  plenty  besides  t'  do.  There's  them  notes 
has  got  to  have  the  int'rest  figgered  on  'em.  Two  o* 
them  fellers  claims  they  paid  the  int'rest,  an'  it  wan't 
put  on  th'  note.  I  s'pose  they've  been  workin*  thet  kind 


THE  STAKE  317 

of  a  game  on  yer  uncle  before,  an'  think  they  c'n  fool 
me.  Of  course  if  they'd  ha'  said  to  him  they'd  paid  it, 
he'd  take  their  word  fer  it.  He  wuz  jest  thet  easy- 
goin'." 

"  That  could  be  fixed  up  later,  just  as  well  —  couldn't 
it  ?  "  inquired  Dick,  trying  to  find  an  opening  for  his 
project. 

"  It's  got  t'  be  done  some  time,"  replied  the  squire, 
rubbing  down  the  horse.  "  They's  all  them  deeds  an' 
abstracts  t'  look  over,  too.  Might  as  well  do  one  thing 
at  a  time." 

"  See  here,  Squire ! "  said  Weston,  with  determina- 
tion. "  Why  can't  you  figure  all  this  out,  without  me  ? 
I'm  not  familiar  with  such  things,  and  you're  a  regular 
expert." 

Gtiilford  laid  down  his  brush  and  came  out  of  the 
stall. 

"  Say,  boy !  "  he  said.  "  Whut's  th'  matter  with  ye? 
Don't  ye  want  t'  find  out  about  yer  prop'ty  ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  Weston,  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoul- 
ders. "  I'd  rather  go  back  to  Boston." 

The  squire  eyed  him  shrewdly  for  a  moment,  and 
then  with  a  silent  laugh  working  the  muscles  of  his 
face,  he  whispered: 

"Is  it  th' little  gal,  Dick?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Waal,  why  didn't  ye  say  so  ?  "  roared  the  old  man. 
"  Go  an'  do  yer  courtin'.  I'll  look  arter  th'  prop'ty. 
Say  —  is  she  kind  o'  comin'  your  way  —  eh?" 

Weston  nodded  confidentially. 

"  Hev  ye  —  hev  ye  —  popped?  " 


3i8  THE  STAKE 

"Yes,  and— " 

"  Whut?  An'  she  took  ye  up?  Glory  hallelujah!  I 
knowed  it'd  come.  I  mus'  go  an'  tell  mother.  Me  an' 
her  hed  it  all  fixed  up  thet  day  ye  wuz  here  t'  supper. 
Gosh,  I'm  tickled  as  a  young  buck.  Yew  go  right  along 
an'  see  her.  I'll  look  arter  things  here.  Bless  her 
heart.  Jes'  tell  her  I  give  my  consent.  Why,  boy,  ye 
ain't  treatin'  her  right  t'  stay  here.  Ye  ought  t'  be 
waitin'  on  her  ev'ry  night,  an'  takin'  her  t'  parties  an' 
circuses,  an'  prayer-meetin's." 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  Weston  required  no  urging, 
and  the  result  of  his  easy  victory  over  the  squire,  was 
his  appearance  the  following  evening  at  the  door  of 
Senator  Ellsworth's  residence. 

After  his  arrival  in  Boston  that  afternoon,  he  had 
taken  time  to  call  on  his  old  friend,  Rankin ;  then,  dress- 
ing with  unusual  care  in  his  room  at  the  hotel,  he  had 
taken  a  cab  and  had  driven  as  rapidly  as  an  extra  tip 
could  hasten  the  driver. 

As  he  ascended  the  broad  stone  steps  of  the  stately 
mansion,  he  could  not  overcome  a  feeling  of  nervous- 
ness. The  two  letters  he  had  received  from  Louise 
during  their  short  separation,  were  just  what  any  sensi- 
ble lover  would  expect ;  but  a  sensible  lover  is  a  rarity, 
and  the  rapid  succession  of  events  in  his  brief  court- 
ship, had  given  Dick  Weston  little  time  to  steady  his 
nerves.  Standing  before  the  door,  with  his  finger  on 
the  electric  button,  his  heart  misgave  him,  and  to  the 
servant  who  answered  his  ring,  he  could  only  stammer 
forth  a  request  to  see  Senator  Ellsworth. 

"  Certainly,  sir.     The  name,  please." 


THE  STAKE  319 

"  Mr.  Weston.     Wait  a  minute.     Here  is  my  card." 

He  was  ushered  into  a  small  reception-room,  where 
he  had  a  moment's  time  to  collect  his  senses.  Then 
just  as  he  was  beginning  to  wish  that  he  had  asked  for 
Louise,  the  maid  reappeared. 

"  Senator  Ellsworth  will  see  you  in  the  library,  sir," 
she  announced,  holding  aside  the  heavy  draperies  for 
him  to  pass  out  into  the  hall. 

Weston  followed  her  with  quickened  pulse,  and  was 
ushered  into  the  opposite  room. 

"Ah,  Mr.  Weston!  Glad  to  see  you!"  exclaimed 
the  senator,  coming  forward  to  greet  the  young  man. 

Weston  bowed  formally,  and  accepted  the  chair 
which  was  offered  him. 

"  I  have  been  expecting  you  for  the  past  two  days," 
continued  the  senator,  resuming  his  seat  and  his  cigar. 
"  I  thought  your  good  fortune  would  make  you  anxious 
to  see  me  sooner.  Most  young  men  who  had  won  such 
a  prize  as  you  have,  would  be  impatient  to  have  the 
matter  settled  beyond  any  question." 

"  Then,  Louise  has  told  you,  sir  ?  "  inquired  Weston 
eagerly. 

"  Louise !  "  exclaimed  the  senator,  removing  his  cigar, 
and  looking  sternly  at  the  young  man.  "  What  do  you 
mean  ?  What  has  Miss  Ellsworth  to  do  with  this  ?  " 

"  Our  engagement  —  I  thought  — "  stammered  Wes- 
ton. 

"Your  engagement?"  said  the  senator,  leaning  back 
in  his  chair,  and  staring  at  the  discomfited  lover  in 
astonishment. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Dick,  trying  to  muster  his  courage. 


320  THE  STAKE 

"  Louise  and  I  love  each  other,  and  I  understood  from 
your  words,  that  she  had  told  you." 

"  No,"  said  the  senator,  eyeing  the  young  man, 
soberly.  "  This  is  all  news  to  me.  I  thought  you  came 
here  to  close  that  deal  for  your  land." 

Then  with  a  dry  laugh  he  added : 

"  You  are  not  slow  for  a  fledgling.  You  managed  to 
get  out  of  me  a  long  price  for  your  property,  and  now 
you  propose  to  take  my  daughter  away  from  me. 
Where  will  you  hit  me  next  ?  " 

"  You  fixed  the  price  yourself,"  said  Weston,  flush- 
ing under  the  insinuation. 

"  I  know  I  did.  You  put  me  in  a  corner.  I'm  sorry 
now  I  didn't  deal  with  your  man  Rankin.  He  was  a 
good  trader,  and  put  up  a  first-class  fight,  but  you  — 
you  threw  the  whole  thing  overboard  by  appealing  to 
my  honor.  It's  the  first  time  in  all  my  business  career 
I  ever  had  that  happen  to  me." 

"  Do  you  regret  it  now  ?  "  asked  Weston. 

"  Eh  ?  No !  I  don't  regret  it.  It  was  a  weak  piece 
of  business  on  my  part,  but  we  had  to  have  the  land, 
even  at  your  price." 

"  Your  price,"  said  Weston,  smiling. 

"  Yes,  I'll  admit  that  it  was  my  price,"  replied  the 
senator  in  better  humor.  "  You  got  just  what  I  thought 
it  was  worth  —  a  half  million  dollars.  And,  by  the 
way,  Travis  left  the  contract  here  for  your  signature. 
The  deed,  of  course,  will  have  to  wait  until  the  settle- 
ment of  your  uncle's  estate.  All  we  need  from  you  now 
is  your  written  agreement  to  sell.  Perhaps  it  would  be 
well  to  have  the  executor  of  your  uncle's  will  sign  with 


THE  STAKE  321 

you.  Travis  has  passed  on  the  title,  and  drawn  the  con- 
tract. We  are  to  pay  you  now  one  hundred  thousand 
dollars,  and  the  balance  when  the  deed  is  delivered. 
Suppose  you  stop  in  at  Travis's  office  to-morrow  morn- 
ing, and  go  over  the  matter  with  him.  You  will  have 
to  acknowledge  the  contract  before  a  notary,  and  can 
leave  it  there  with  him.  He  will  give  you  a  check  for 
the  first  payment.  This  will  make  you  a  wealthy  man, 
Weston.  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  all  this 
money?  Why  not  invest  it  in  some  of  our  stock?  It's 
bound  to  advance,  as  soon  as  this  purchase  is  announced. 
Or,  if  you  want  to  speculate  on  your  information,  sell 
some  of  the  Lucky  Jack  stock,  short." 

"  I'm  thinking  of  buying  Lucky  Jack,"  said  Weston. 

"  Buying  ?  You  surely  don't  mean  that,  my  boy ! 
Lucky  Jack  stock  will  go  down  thirty  points  as  soon 
as  it's  known  that  they  can't  get  your  land." 

"  Isn't  there  any  other  copper  land  they  can  get  ?  " 

"  Yes,  if  they  had  the  cash,  but  that  is  just  what  they 
have  not,  nor  will  anyone  furnish  the  money  for  them. 
Everybody  is  afraid  to  go  into  the  game  against  us." 

"  Why  don't  you  take  them  in  with  you  ?  " 

"  Take  them  in  ? "  The  senator  laughed  aloud. 
"  We'll  take  them  in,  by  and  by,  but  on  our  own  terms." 

"  What  is  their  property  worth  ?  As  much  as  mine  ?  " 
asked  Weston. 

"  More.  The  Lucky  Jack  is  a  developed  property ; 
yours  is  not  much  more  than  a  prospect,  although  I 
don't  mind  telling  you  now,  that  we  have  been  secretly 
tapping  your  land  at  various  points  to  test  the  ore  de- 
posit. But  the  Lucky  Jack  needs  more  ore-bearing  land 


322  THE  STAKE 

to  join  what  they  have.  That's  why  we  were  so  anxious 
to  get  yours  before  they  had  a  chance  at  it.  You  see 
it  was  a  case  of  the  early  bird  getting  the  worm." 

"  Worm  is  a  mild  word  to  express  the  opinion  I  have 
of  myself,"  said  Weston.  His  voice  had  a  new  sound, 
and  the  senator  looked  up  in  surprise. 

"How's  that?"  said  he. 

"  I  made  a  fool  of  myself,"  replied  the  young  man. 
"  You  are  mistaken,  Senator,  if  you  think  you  were  the 
early  bird.  The  Lucky  Jack  people  were  the  first  to  ap- 
proach me.  In  fact,  the  property  was  virtually  given 
to  their  agent  to  sell." 

"  You  surprise  me,  Weston.  This  is  a  strange  story 
you  are  telling  me.  What  price  did  you  put  on  the 
land?" 

"  None  at  all.  I  simply  told  Rankin  to  dispose  of  it 
for  what  it  was  worth,  or  what  he  thought  it  was  worth." 

"Rankin?" 

"Yes,  Rankin!  He  is  the  real  owner  of  the  Lucky 
Jack  property.  The  fellows  who  are  working  it  have 
only  a  lease.  Rankin  owns  the  property,  and  part  of 
the  stock  of  the  company.  He  and  his  friends  control 
the  stock ;  the  rest  of  the  stock  was  put  on  the  market 
to  furnish  money  for  the  plant  and  first  operating  ex- 
penses." 

Senator  Ellsworth  listened  to  all  this,  his  face  a  pic- 
ture of  bewilderment. 

"  I  don't  understand  this,  Weston.  If  Rankin  had 
your  land,  why  did  he  try  to  sell  it  to  me  ?  " 

"  Because  he  knew  you  could  pay  me  more  for  it  than 
he  could." 


THE  STAKE 


323 


"  Upon  my  word,  Weston,  this  is  the  most  singular 
thing  that  has  occurred  in  all  my  business  experience. 
Do  you  mean  to  say  that  the  Lucky  Jack  Company,  or 
Mr.  Rankin,  if  he  is  the  real  owner,  had  an  option  on 
your  land,  at  their  own  figure,  and  then  deliberately  let 
it  slip  through  their  fingers,  and  actually  helped  you  to 
sell  it  to  me?  The  idea  is  incredible.  What  could  in- 
duce Rankin  to  do  it?  Is  it  possible  that  my  reports 
are  incorrect,  and  this  land  is  worthless?  If  this  man, 
Rankin,  has  outwitted  me  in  my  own  game,  then  it  is 
time  for  me  to  retire  from  business." 

Weston  smiled. 

"  Rankin's  motives  in  this  whole  transaction  were  en- 
tirely unselfish.  I  was  astonished  when  I  learned  the 
facts,  because  I  had  misjudged  the  man's  character,  and 
didn't  believe  him  capable  of  such  generosity  as  he  has 
shown.  Let  me  tell  you  about  it,  and  perhaps  you  will 
understand  him  better. 

"  He  and  my  uncle  were  companions  in  their  early 
days,  and  close  friends.  Both  of  them  were  in  love 
with  nature,  and  fond  of  life  in  the  woods.  In  order 
that  they  might  have  a  spot  of  earth  which  they  could 
call  their  own,  away  from  the  rest  of  the  world,  they 
acquired  possession  of  these  two  tracts  of  land  lying 
side  by  side,  and  there  they  lived  together  for  a  number 
of  years.  You  can  imagine,  perhaps,  the  bond  of  affec- 
tion which  grew  between  them.  It  never  ceased  to  hold 
them,  although,  in  later  years,  they  were  separated.  All 
this,  I  knew,  Senator,  and  gave  it  but  a  passing  thought, 
never  dreaming  that  when  I  inherited  my  uncle's  prop- 
erty, I  also  inherited  the  good-will  of  his  old  friend. 


324  THE  STAKE 

And  now  he  has  done  for  me  in  my  ignorance,  what  he 
would  have  done  for  my  uncle, —  sacrificed  his  own  ad- 
vantage, in  order  that  I  might  be  the  gainer.  You  say 
it  is  incredible  that  he  should  do  this.  I'll  admit  that, 
in  the  ordinary  ways  of  business,  it  is  unusual.  Never- 
theless, this  man  has  shown  us  that  there  is  something 
to  consider  besides  personal  advantage." 

"If  your  theory  is  correct,"  remarked  the  senator, 
dryly,  "he  has  certainly  made  a  great  sacrifice  for  a 
romantic  idea  of  friendship." 

"  If  the  problem  came  to  you,  wouldn't  you  do  the 
same?" 

The  senator  frowned. 

"  I  rarely  let  sentiment  interfere  with  business,"  he 
replied. 

"  This  wasn't  a  question  of  sentiment,  but  of  honor," 
said  Weston. 

"  Practically  the  same  thing." 

"No,  sir.  Not  the  same  thing.  If  that  were  true, 
how  do  you  explain  your  action  the  other  night  ?  " 

The  senator  shook  his  head. 

"  That  was  the  strangest  experience  in  all  my  life. 
I  sometimes  think  that  I  was  out  of  my  senses  at  the 
time." 

"  Wouldn't  you  do  the  same  thing  again  ? "  asked 
Weston. 

"  I'm  not  sure.  I  hope  the  occasion  will  never  arise 
again.  However,  my  boy,  I'm  glad  that  my  foolish 
lapse  and  your  friend's  sentiment  have  resulted  so  fa- 
vorably for  you." 

"I've  thought  of  that,"  said  Weston,  quietly.    "I 


THE  STAKE 


325 


owe  a  great  deal  to  both  of  you,  and  I  feel  that,  in  some 
way,  I  ought  to  pay  the  debt.  In  Rankin's  case  I  can 
see  a  way  to  recompense  him  for  his  sacrifice.  But  in 
your  case  — " 

"  In  my  case,"  interrupted  the  senator,  smiling  for 
the  first  time.  "  In  my  case,  you  have  further  designs." 

Weston  flushed. 

"  I  understand  what  you  mean,"  he  said  thoughtfully. 
"  I  hope  you  will  consent  to  give  me  your  daughter's 
hand  in  marriage.  But  there  is  another  sacrifice  which 
I  have  to  ask  of  you." 

He  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  said  bravely : 

"  Senator,  I  wish  you  would  do  for  Rankin  and  his 
associates  wEat  you  have  done  for  me.  Buy  their  prop- 
erty from  them  and  pay  them  their  price.  Take  them 
in  with  you  on  a  fair  basis.  You  say  the  property  is 
worth  more  than  mine.  If  you  want  it,  why  not  pay 
them  what  it  is  worth  ?  " 

The  senator  gazed  at  the  young  man  in  astonishment. 

"  What?  "  he  cried.  "  Pay  a  half  million  dollars  for 
the  Lucky  Jack  property,  after  we  have  them  whipped? 
Why,  boy,  you  talk  like  a  fool.  Be  satisfied  with  what 
you  have.  Don't  try  to  draw  me  into  any  more  of  your 
Utopian  ideas." 

"  They're  not  whipped  yet,"  said  Weston,  looking  up 
quickly. 

"  Not  whipped  yet?  They're  whipped  to  a  finish. 
They  haven't  a  leg  to  stand  on.  We've  got  them  en- 
closed in  a  net.  We  have  all  the  land  east  of  them, 
and  now,  with  yours,  we  have  all  the  land  west  of 
them." 


326  THE  STAKE 

"  How  about  the  land  south  of  them  ?  " 

"They  can't  get  it.  It  takes  a  half  million  dollars 
cash  to  buy  it,  and  they  couldn't  raise  fifty  thousand  dol- 
lars now." 

"  That's  where  you  are  mistaken." 

"Eh!  Mistaken?  Not  I,  my  boy.  When  I  closed 
with  you  for  your  land,  I  put  the  last  nail  in  their  cof- 
fin. It  was  an  expensive  piece  of  business,  but  it  ac- 
complished the  desired  result." 

"  Suppose  the  Lucky  Jack  Company  could  raise  the 
money  and  buy  this  land  south  of  them,  what  effect 
would  that  have?" 

"  It  would  block  our  game  temporarily  perhaps.  We 
would  have  to  try  another  move.  But  that  won't  occur. 
We  will  buy  the  land,  ourselves,  before  we  let  the  Lucky 
Jack  Company  have  it." 

"  You  can't  buy  it,"  said  Weston  quietly. 

"  Oh,  yes,  we  can,  and  we  will,  when  we  get  the  price 
down  where  we  want  it." 

"  You  can't  buy  it  now,"  repeated  Weston  more  de- 
cidedly. 

"  What  makes  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  Because  the  Lucky  Jack  Company  bought  it  to-day. 
That  is  to  say,  they  have  closed  the  deal,  and  made  a 
payment  on  the  price." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  Rankin  told  me  so  to-day." 

"  Rankin  ? "  exclaimed  the  senator,  suspiciously. 
"  Where  does  he  expect  to  get  the  money?  " 

"  From  me." 

"What?"  shouted  the  senator,  springing  to  his  feet. 


THE  STAKE  327 

"  You  tell  me  this !  You  furnish  the  money !  Where 
do  you  expect  to  get  it  ?  " 

"  From  you." 

"From  me?  Ha!  Ha!  Ha!  That's  a  good  joke! 
So  you  think  you  can  draw  me  into  this  kind  of  a 
scheme,  do  you  ?  Never !  I've  spent  six  months  trying 
to  bring  those  fellows  to  time,  and  I'm  not  likely  to  turn 
in  and  help  them  out  of  the  hole  where  I  put  them." 

"  But  I  intend  to  use  the  money  which  you  are  to  pay 
me  for  my  land,"  exclaimed  Weston. 

Senator  Ellsworth,  who  was  walking  up  and  down 
the  room,  stopped  short,  and  steadied  himself  against 
a  chair.  With  a  countenance  in  which  anger  and  fear 
struggled  for  the  mastery,  he  said  hoarsely: 

"  My  God,  boy !  You  don't  intend  to  play  that  trick 
on  me,  do  you?  After  I've  paid  you  a  big  price  for 
your  land,  you  wouldn't  be  mean  enough  to  give  the 
money  to  those  fellows  to  fight  me  with  ?  " 

"  I  hope  there'll  be  no  fight,"  said  Weston,  calmly. 
"  But  if  there  is  to  be  one,  my  sympathy  will  all  be  with 
the  weaker  side." 

"  If  you  are  counting  on  the  money  you  expect  to  re- 
ceive from  me  for  your  land,  you'd  better  wait  until 
you  get  it.  Suppose  I  repudiate  the  deal,  and  refuse 
to  take  your  land  ?  " 

"  I  have  thought  of  that,  but  not  seriously,"  replied 
Weston.  "  It  would  be  so  dishonorable,  I  don't  believe 
you  would  do  it.  However,  if  that  condition  should 

*  99 

arise, — 

He  paused  and  observed  the  other  man  gravely. 
"Well,  what  would  you  do?" 


328  THE  STAKE 

"  Lease  my  property  to  the  Lucky  Jack  Company." 

Ellsworth  seated  himself,  and  lighted  a  fresh  cigar. 
The  problem  was  one  which  required  thought,  and  he 
wanted  time  to  study  this  new  phase  of  the  game.  For 
some  time  no  word  was  spoken.  In  Weston's  heart 
there  was  no  thought  of  vengeance,  but  only  a  desire 
to  prevent  a  great  wrong;  to  establish  in  the  mind  of 
the  man  before  him  a  true  sense  of  justice. 

The  audacity  of  his  attack  rilled  him  with  misgivings. 
It  seemed  a  bold  thing  for  him  to  dictate  terms  to  this 
man,  in  whose  hands  others  were  willing  to  leave  mil- 
lions in  trust.  He  had  a  feeling  that  he  ought  to  apolo- 
gize, and,  as  he  raised  his  eyes  and  found  the  other  man 
observing  him  closely,  he  flushed  with  sudden  embar- 
rassment. 

"  You  were  saying  something  awhile  ago  about  my 
daughter,"  remarked  the  senator,  slowly.  "Of  course 
you  will  hardly  expect  much  favor  from  me  now  in  that 
direction." 

Weston's  eyes  flashed  angrily. 

"That  threat  is  unworthy  of  you,  sir,"  he  cried. 
"  Through  my  love  for  her,  I  have  learned  to  accept 
her  faith  in  you,  and  to  believe  you  worthy  of  my  re- 
spect and  —  my  affection.  I  have  learned  from  her  to 
know  you  better  than  you  know  yourself.  I  am  con- 
vinced that  you  do  not  intend  to  wrong  anyone,  and  yet 
you  seem  to  overlook  the  harm  and  suffering  your  meth- 
ods inflict  on  others.  Take  these  very  men  you  are  trying 
to  force  out  of  business, —  you  would  be  among  the  first 
to  help  them  if  you  found  them  in  adversity,  wouldn't 
you  ?  Why  not  help  them  now  ?  Here  is  my  proposition : 


THE  STAKE  329 

suppose  you  take  the  money  you  would  have  to  pay  me 
for  my  land,  and  buy  the  Lucky  Jack  property  instead. 
Then  you  can  lease  mine  on  any  reasonable  terms  you 
want  to  make." 

Weston's  face  was  glowing  with  animation.  The 
elder  man  gazed  at  him  in  astonishment. 

"  That's  a  queer  proposition,"  he  said  with  a  frown. 
"  There's  no  reason  in  the  world  why  I  should  do  such 
a  thing." 

"It's  the  only  way  we  can  be  fair  to  Rankin,"  de- 
clared Weston  fearlessly. 

The  senator  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  closed  his  eyes, 
and  pressed  his  hand  to  his  forehead. 

"  I'm  getting  too  old  for  business,"  he  said,  slowly. 
"  This  is  my  last  deal.  When  a  man  stops  to  consider 
the  advantage  or  disadvantage  to  his  opponents,  his  days 
of  usefulness  are  past.  The  zest  of  the  game  is  gone. 
Skillful  tactics,  shrewd  insight,  quick  perception  of 
values, —  all  these  count  for  nothing  in  business  strug- 
gles, if  personal  sentiment  is  to  interfere.  Men  will 
criticize  me  for  this.  They  will  never  believe  the  mo- 
tive. They  will  ascribe  it  to  weakening  judgment,  to 
failing  intellect." 

"  Then  you  will  do  it  ?  "  asked  Weston  eagerly,  lean- 
ing forward  in  his  excitement,  and  holding  out  his  hand 
to  his  companion. 

"  Your  plan  is  not  feasible,"  remarked  the  senator, 
wearily,  "  but  I  will  make  a  proposition  to  your  friends 
which  they  will  be  glad  to  accept  —  in  fact,  a  conces- 
sion they  have  been  trying  to  get  from  me  for  some 
time,  admitting  them  to  our  consolidation  of  interests. 


330  THE  STAKE 

They  will  be  satisfied,  and  I  shall  be  spared  any  further 
annoyance.  As  for  you — " 

There  was  a  tap  at  the  door,  it  opened,  and  Louise  en- 
tered the  room. 

"May  I  disturb  you  a  moment,  Father?"  she  said. 
Then  as  she  came  face  to  face  with  Weston,  she  stopped 
in  astonishment,  and  with  a  low  cry  sprang  into  his  out- 
stretched arms. 

"  Oh,  Dick ! "  was  all  she  could  say ;  then  turned  to 
face  her  father,  with  shining  eyes,  in  which  was  a  look 
of  anxious  inquiry. 

"  Mr.  Weston  has  decided  to  take  me  for  a  father- 
in-law,"  said  the  senator  dryly.  Then  as  she  came  to 
his  side  and  put  her  arms  about  his  neck  to  kiss  him,  he 
added  with  a  laugh : 

"And  I  have  been  willing  —  yes,  willing  to  accept 
his  conditions." 

He  pressed  her  head  between  his  hands,  kissed  her, 
then  gently  gave  her  back  to  Weston. 

"  Your  mother  will  be  relieved  to  know  that  you  have 
overcome  your  infatuation  for  that  fellow  who  saved 
your  life  from  shipwreck,"  he  said  with  a  smile.  "  She 
has  been  worried  for  fear  you  would  fall  in  love  with 
him." 

Louise's  eyes  sparkled  as  she  looked  up  into  her 
lover's  face. 

"  That  was  Mr.  Crusoe,"  she  said  roguishly.  "  I'm 
not  sure  yet  that  I  don't  love  him  better  than  I  do  you." 

As  they  passed  out  of  the  room  together,  the  senator 
dropped  wearily  into  a  chair. 

"  When  a  man  reaches  my  age,"  he  murmured,  "  I 


THE  STAKE  331 

suppose  it's  time  for  him  to  square  accounts  with  his 
conscience.  What  do  the  Scriptures  say;  'out  of  the 
mouths  of  babes  and  sucklings '  we  are  to  learn  wis- 
dom? I  must  get  some  theological  works  on  the  moral 
obligations  of  syndicates,  or  I'll  ask  Dr.  Peters  to  preach 
a  sermon  some  day  on  '  How  to  get  the  better  of  a  man 
and  make  him  happy  in  doing  so.'  I  suppose  he  would 
choose  for  his  text  '  Do  unto  others  as  you  would  that 
they  should  do  unto  you.'  " 

He  examined  the  end  of  his  cigar,  saw  that  it  was  out, 
and  threw  it  away. 

"  I  suppose  He  was  right,"  he  sighed.  "  But  it's 
hard  to  apply  it  to  modern  business  methods." 


llllllMlii  inn  MHI  ••!»«• 

A    000  038  731     6 


